The Call of Destiny
by dmarie1184
Summary: Grief-stricken and aimless after Arthur's death, Merlin decides to put as much distance between himself and Camelot as possible. However, destiny introduces him to a young healer with the burden of prophecy whose path seems entwined with his own. Will the dream of Albion live on? The call of destiny continues.
1. Encounter in the Woods

_Like many fellow Merlin fans, the ending left me unsatisfied and with so many questions. Did Merlin ever go back to Camelot? Or was he destined to be forever alone, a perpetual wanderer across the centuries? I would like to think not. This is my attempt to fill in those blanks, and maybe, just give him a bit of a hopeful ending, at least for one lifetime._

 _And as always, the disclaimer: I do not own Merlin (just my OC)._

* * *

Slivers of the impending dawn touched the lake, shimmering over the surface. Merlin opened his eyes slowly, wishing he could escape back into sleep. The lake was eerily calm, smooth as glass. Two days earlier, he had sent Arthur in a boat to the land of Avalon-to his death.

 _I failed. Everything I've done and he's dead_. Kilgharrah said that he would rise again. But when?

He stirred slightly, only vaguely aware of his hunger. He couldn't go back to Camelot, couldn't see the grief and pain in everyone's eyes.

 _I was the one who brought his downfall_. How many times could he have killed Morgana, thus ending her reign of terror? And that terrible mistake when they had gone to the Disir. Not only had he betrayed his own kind by insuring Camelot would stay free of magic, he had set in motion the horrible chain of events that brought him here. His attempts to protect Arthur had done the exact opposite.

He was empty. Purposeless. What was his life now?

 _Well you can't sit here wallowing forever_. He'd sent off too many of those he cared about here. Freya. Lancelot. Elyan. Arthur. The serenity of its idyllic surroundings mocked the turmoil of his soul. No more. He couldn't bear to be here a moment longer.

He stood up, a bit too quickly on an empty stomach. His vision spun and he stumbled, but righted himself. He had no idea where to head now. The only place he could think of was Ealdor. He hadn't seen his mother in almost a year now. But that was a good two days' journey on foot.

 _There's no where else._ He set forth, putting distance between himself and the lake as fast as possible.

* * *

Della knelt on the forest floor, grasping the root of the wild angelica. The morning air was unseasonably cool. She suppressed a shiver and tied her shawl tighter, as if that would dispel the cold.

She arrived here earlier than normal, before her aunt Ealhwyn awakened. She warned her not to come out here today, as there were rumors of Saxons roaming the lands. _Saxons_. Another chill ran through her ran through her and she shivered, though this time this time was from a cold that went deep into her soul.

Just a few days prior, she foresaw a great battle in the mountain pass of Camlann. _Blood pooling on the ground. Yells of men in the throes of death. A great and powerful sorcerer calling down lightning from the sky._

Emrys. She recognized him as the sorcerer Ealhwyn said would be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. She'd seen him in many other visions before over the years, when he was younger, when he was called Merlin.

Her mind drifted back to the events that had unfolded in her mind's eye-all the way up to seeing the king stabbed in the stomach by a younger man with anger and hate in his eyes.

She continued picking her herbs, trying not to dwell on the images that haunted her.

 _Trees shrouded in mist. A woman with long dark hair walks down a hill, a malicious smile on her face. She stands over the injured king, looking as if she is on the edge of sheer insanity._

 _Behind her, Merlin approaches, a sword drawn. Suddenly, the witch is stabbed through. She watches the light fade from her eyes as death claims her._

Tears run down her face, and she wipes them away as quickly as they come, remembering the final part of the vision.

 _A dragon appears, eyes golden. He speaks to Merlin, who holding Arthur by a lake. Arthur is still and pale in his arms. "There is nothing you can do."_

 _"I've…failed?" His voice is broken._

 _"No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building, has come to pass."_

 _"I can't lose him—he's my friend!"_

 _The king is laid in a boat, with his cloak arranged around him and his hands folded over his chest. Merlin places a hand on his forehead and sobs._

 _"Arthur. In sibbe gerest." He sets the boat off on the lake and continues weeping. The boat slips into the fog in the distance and disappears. Merlin collapses to his knees and lets out a wail so painful the sky seems to tremble._

Della tries to steady her stomach. In another life, years before, she had known Arthur and Morgana, had dined with them in the great hall of Camelot. But that had been so long ago, before her visions. It was hard to believe she watched both die as if she had been standing beside them.

 _It's only ever death and destruction. Only ever pain._ Had these events occurred yet? The uneasy feeling in her stomach told her it had. Everything always came to pass.

Why was she plagued with this? What good had it done? She pulled out another angelica plant in frustration, sending clumps of dirt flying up into the air. Aunt Ealhwyn claimed had she been raised a Druid, she would've been trained as a seer and revered. Not many had such a gift, as she called it.

But it had been far from a gift. _It has been nothing but a curse._

A twig snapped and she turned. Nothing behind her. Yet the hair on her arms stood on end. She sensed someone watching her but couldn't see where. Her heart beat faster in her chest as Ealhwyn's warning echoed in her mind. _Time to go._

She picked up her basket and made her way quickly back towards the rutted path. Something was not right. Something—

"What do we have here? A little forest sprite?"

Coming from behind the big oak tree in front of her stood a large man with a mop of curly brown hair on his head. Behind him were three others—all dressed in Saxon garb. The man stopped in front of her.

"Please let me pass. I have nothing you want." She tried to be firm but her voice was shaky. The men laughed and circled her as if she were a deer and they were wolves, hungry for their prey.

The man laughed. He looked her over and she couldn't mistake the predatory look in his eyes. "I think you have just what we want."

She took that moment and broke through the circle, but only made it a step before she was grabbed by the leader. His arm pinned her in his grasp. "Not so fast, little one."

She would not find herself a victim to these brutes. She concentrated on the man's arm and the cloth of his sleeve. " _Forbærnan_."

Immediately, his sleeve was alight in flame. In shock, he threw her forward, yelling and yelping as he tried to put the fire out. Della dropped her basket and ran, taking the opportunity of the other men's shock.

 _Faster, faster. Run!_

"Damned sorceress! You'll pay for that!" he roared. Just a few more steps until she was behind that tree—

 _Twhack._ Della screamed as an arrow hit her in her thigh, sending her crashing into the greenery. The pain sent shockwaves through her body.

The men quickly caught up to her. Three stood with crossbows aimed right at her. The man whom she burned had ripped his shirt sleeve off and a red blistering burn trailed up his arm.

"Not so powerful now, demon witch, are you?" He towered over her and she scrambled to crawl away. He took another few steps and kicked her with all his might—right in her rib cage. Once. Twice. Three times. _Crack, crack._

Instinct took over and she pushed back the pain for a brief moment as she concentrated on summoning the ancient power bursting forth within her. She screamed with every fiber of her being, the sharp twinge of her fractured rib digging ever deeper.

The world shook around them and the men with crossbows were thrown back as was her attacker. She tried to get to her knees, struggling against the pain in her lungs and leg.

Della closed her eyes, concentrating on trying to will her pain away. She tried to incant the healing spell. " _Ic hæle—"_

A knock to the head sent her world spinning again. "No more spells!" Through her spinning vision she saw him unsheathe his sword.

 _I'm sorry, Aunt. I should've listened to you._

* * *

He should've paid attention on the direction he was heading. No villages on this side of the lake. His stomach protested with each step. His numerous journeys across Camelot and he couldn't remember where the closest village was to buy a meager loaf of bread. He didn't have much coin on him and wondered if he could even barter for a slice.

As his mind wandered, thinking about where to go next, he heard a yell echo through the woods. A sonic scream. It was one born of desperation, fear—and magic. It wasn't far off either. It was coming from down in the small valley.

He ran towards the sound and over the ridge and stopped dead.

Just off the pathway, a young woman lay in the grass, struggling to get up. A few feet away were her attackers—four Saxon men, just getting up.

Anger coursed through him, remembering the battle and all that occurred. What are they still doing here? They had been defeated at Camlann three days prior—was this a rogue band? Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what they had likely planned to do to her. He felt the familiar spark of magic on the edge of his fingertips.

He had to act fast. The biggest of the men was up and heading towards the woman, unsheathing his sword. With a gesture of his head, he aimed the full force of his magic on him. The attacker had no time to react as the world shifted and the wind tunneled towards him. He was sent airborne and crashed into a tree, the crunch of bone echoing as his spine broke with the force. His body turned in on itself and hit the forest floor with a thud, his sword lying useless in the dirt beside him.

The other three men shifted their focus on their new foe. Two had crossbows aimed directly at him and another came charging up the hill at him with his sword drawn. He knew from experience to dispatch the archers first. _Thunk, thunk._

He concentrated on the arrows and time around him, feeling the ebb and flow of the moments shift beneath his eyes. In a split second, he was able to redirect them to the trees behind him. They were in the middle of reloading again and he focused on the crossbows themselves. " _Forbærnan_." The wood was consumed in flame in a flash and the archers tossed them away quickly, yelling from the pain of their newly burned hands.

" _Átýdre sylu_." The men started sinking into the ground as the earth slowly began to consume them.

The swordsman was within a few feet now and Merlin darted backwards as the man swung at him. In a brief flash, he propelled the swordsman back at a great force, sending him tumbling backwards over himself twice. He remained still.

Merlin headed down the hill towards the archers mired in the fast-acting quicksand. They were now up to their waists.

"The harder you struggle, the faster this," he gestured with his head towards the quicksand, "will consume you. I can let you go if you leave this land and return to your brethren in the East."

"Yes, anything! Anything!" The taller man said. He was now up to his shoulders in the muck, his compatriot not much further behind him.

"If you try to attack me, or that young woman over there, you will not leave this place alive. Understood?"

"Yes!" Both chimed in unison.

" _Áfierre_ **.** " The two men were set on the path. Merlin stared them down, ready to make good on his promise in case they tried anything underhanded. He had no more patience for scum such as these. They scrambled to their feet and ran in the opposite direction as fast as their feet could carry them.

Convinced the other two were no more of a threat, Merlin made his way the young woman. His heart sank when he saw she hadn't been fortunate enough to be left unscathed by her attackers. An arrow shaft stuck out of her right thigh and she was gasping for breath, whether from injury or fear, he didn't know.

She regarded him with a sense of hesitation—and something else in her stare that almost seemed like either shock or recognition.

"I can help you," he said, kneeling next to her. Now that he was closer he was certain her strained breathing was from injury.

"I'm...fine," she said, the words almost as soft as a whisper.

"You can barely breathe. And you have an arrow sticking out of your leg!"

She ignored him and lifted her skirt to examine her wound, brow furrowed in pain. He looked away for a moment, feeling a bit uncomfortable at seeing her thigh but curiosity got the best of him as he watched her cup her hand over the spot where the arrow had entered her leg. She took a wavering breath as she incanted a spell.

" _Álúcan_." The arrow came out intact, but she cried out as it exited her leg, the blood pooling forth as its stopper was released.

Through gritted teeth she mumbled another spell. " _Þurhhæle licsar_." The blood flow slowed as the wound on her leg slowly closed up.

He was impressed at her level of magic. Healing spells took a substantial amount of focus and energy from the caster-evidenced by her strained breathing and the perspiration on her forehead.

She grimaced again and grabbed her side. She hadn't been able to heal herself entirely. He suspected she had a fractured rib—maybe more than one. She wavered a bit, her eyes fluttering. She was struggling to maintain consciousness.

He needed to act quickly.

"Please let me help you. I didn't chase those men off to watch you die here."

She hesitated at first but nodded. Suddenly aware of his presence and the fact her leg was still exposed, she pulled the hem of skirt back over the now healed wound, a quick shade of pink dusting her cheeks.

"Lie back; this will be uncomfortable. I need to check if you have a broken rib." She did as she was told and he carefully felt along her rib cage, drawing on his knowledge from years of being Gaius' assistant.

She squirmed as he felt along each bone. _There_. He couldn't be certain, but the break in the top rib was severe. He suspected it may have punctured a lung. She muffled a yell and saw her biting her lip hard, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

He concentrated on a spell of weaving the bone back together, at least partially. _"_ _Þurhhæle bræd._ _"_ His own energy was waning, after having used what magic he did earlier. He wouldn't be able to fully heal her here.

"I've done what I can for now. I need to get you somewhere safe and comfortable. Do you live nearby?"

"Hav…" her eyes began to roll back and he knew she was moments away from unconsciousness as her injuries caught up with her.

"No, stay with me. Don't—" Her eyes closed, and he berated himself for not taking control of things sooner.

"Damn it," he muttered. "I don't even know your name."

 _My name is Della._

He recognized the familiar pull in his mind and focused on the connection. _You are a Druid?_

 _Not really…_

She was struggling to maintain the connection, which was difficult enough when one wasn't bloodied and broken. He would ask her more about that later. Now, he needed to find out where her village was located.

 _Stay with me a little longer, Della. Where do you live?_

 _Havenswood. First house in the clearing._ The subconscious whisper was all but gone now. _Thank you, Merlin._ Her voice went silent.

Unease swept through him. Had she addressed him as Emrys, he wouldn't have been as surprised: many Druids knew who he was on sight.

But she called him Merlin.

* * *

 _ **I hope the first chapter left you wanting to read more! Thank you for reading :)**_


	2. Destiny's Puppet

_An early update this week :) I hope you enjoy reading it._

* * *

Merlin carried her as fast as his legs could go. His muscles quivered with the strain as he fought his own exhaustion. _All that magic this morning on an empty stomach_. He tried to remember which direction Havenswood was. South maybe? Times like this made him wish he knew how to teleport. Though if he had known that, Arthur would still be alive.

 _I can't think about that now._ He pushed past the grief and concentrated on the matter at hand: getting Della home. He'd be damned if he saw another person die in arms in two days' time.

He couldn't stop thinking about her addressing him as Merlin. She knew him, but from where? He didn't recall meeting her over the years. For now, his questions would wait.

The smell of hearth fires drifted on the wind and he knew he was heading in the right direction. Maybe just a quarter mile more….

The edge of the woods gave way to a clearing, with a scattering of thatched roof houses. It reminded him of Ealdor and there was a brief comfort in that.

She'd said the first house in the clearing was hers. Thankfully it wasn't far from the edge of the woods. A handful of villagers were milling about a bit further on and he avoided eye contact. Best not to draw too much attention, what with being a stranger carrying an injured woman.

He kicked the door with his weathered boot, hoping someone was inside. "Hello? Please open up. It's urgent!" The wooden door cracked open and a middle-aged woman with a round, full face appeared. She squinted at him, probably trying to figure out who this stranger was with an unconscious woman in his arms. Not a moment later, shock registered on her face once she realized who he was carrying.

"Oh no!" She beckoned him in. "Hurry, be quick!"

No need to tell him twice. He walked in sideways, making sure to keep Della from hitting either edge of the door. His head grazed the top of the short doorway. The woman closed the door quickly behind him and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the cottage.

It was small—tiny really—and a bit claustrophobic. "Over here," the woman directed him to the left wall with a small bed. He placed Della down gently, his arms shaking with the strain. She was incredibly pale. Worry laced through him then, and he suddenly doubted if he had managed to heal her well enough to survive.

The woman came behind him and edged in front of him, quickly assessing her. "What happened to her?"

"She was attacked by Saxons. I managed to…scare them off."

She looked at him incredulously, her brown eyes full of doubt. "You did more than that, I wager."

"Umm…."

"I know you are Emrys, so don't bother hiding it from me. My name is Ealhwyn and I am Della's aunt."

"Ah." _Of course._ If Della was a Druid, it made sense her aunt was as well. The Druids' uncanny ability of recognizing him was always unnerving.

Ealhwyn gathered a variety of vials and containers on a shelf. She moved towards Della again. "If you don't mind, I need to examine my niece."

"Er…yes, of course." He turned his back towards her, trying to decide what he should do. "Will she be all right? I healed her as best as I could with what energy I had left. She tried to do it on her own but—"

"That's Della for you," Ealhwyn said. She was quiet for a moment and he stood there, his back still towards them. "It looks like the top rib punctured her lung. If you hadn't healed her when you did, her lung would've filled with blood. You saved her life."

He let out a breath of relief, his tense muscles relaxing from the strain of the last hour. His empty stomach chose to growl loud enough to be heard in the small cottage.

Ealhwyn chuckled. "Please, help yourself to some porridge. It's not much—Della's the better cook of the two of us—but it should help ease your hunger. You may be the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, but magic won't fill your stomach."

"Thank you." He meant it in more than one way. Sometimes it was nice to be treated as if he were just _normal._

He ladled some porridge in one of the wooden bowls left beside the porridge pot and sat down at the small table. The simple meal was like a great feast to him. He remained silent, pondering the events of the last few hours.

" _Ahlúttre séocnes_." He listened as Ealhwyn incanted a healing spell. It conjured memories from years before, when his father used the same spell on Arthur. Sorrow filled him again. So many people he loved and cared for had died. Loneliness and regret enveloped him, and his vision clouded with tears. What had all the sacrifices brought? Albion hadn't been united yet; magic was still forbidden and feared thanks to people like Morgana; and Arthur was _dead._

He might as well have been born a privy cleaner for all the good being the great Emrys had done him.

"Is the porridge to your liking?" Ealhwyn asked as she came over and sat down across the table from him.

"Oh, yes, thank you," he said, scooping another spoonful into his mouth.

She smiled as she ladled porridge into her own bowl. "I finished binding Della's broken ribs. It's been quite awhile since I used that spell. I wasn't sure if it would work."

"Where did you learn how to use it? It's not an easy one to master."

Ealhwyn's demeanor changed. "Della's mother and I were raised as Druids. We were trained as healers. Then the Great Purge happened and well, I'm sure you know the rest."

He did. Uther's persecution set all of these events in motion. The consequences of his deranged actions never ended.

"You managed to escape. Did Della's mother die in the purge?"

She smiled sadly. "No. She passed away many years later. But I'm afraid that's not my story to tell."

More mysteries. Perhaps he was getting too involved. But there was more going on here. He thought back to Della's addressing him in the forest.

"Can you tell me something else then?" He said. "She called me Merlin—not Emrys—before she passed out. No other Druid has ever called me that, at least not before I told them."

Ealhwyn's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. Apparently, she hadn't expected that turn in conversation. She put her spoon down and looked to be trying to find the words. "Our king is dead, isn't he? You were at the lake of Avalon sending him off. That's why you happened to rescue Della this morning."

Now it was his turn to be shocked. He suspected visions were involved but not to this degree. He doubted if anyone in Camelot knew about Arthur's death yet. Pain mixed with irritation rippled through him. He'd encountered enough seers and prophets to last for eternity.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to proceed. "Let me guess: you foresaw my coming here. Is that why she was out in the woods? To meet me?"

"Do you think I would willingly send her into such danger to meet you? If I had foreseen what happened today, I would've done my best to prevent her from going out there."

He realized he went too far with his insinuations. "I'm sorry. I haven't had the best experiences regarding prophecy lately."

"It's understandable," Ealhwyn said. "But I think you misunderstand one thing: the burden of prophecy lies on Della's shoulders, not mine."

* * *

Warmth radiated around her, despite the darkness pressing upon her. It was strong yet humble, cradling her broken body. She tried to reach out again, but she was too weak to call out.

The pain in her ribs eased slowly, as if a warm thread of light sewed her back together again. The warmth faded away and slowly, she felt strength return.

Voices came, though muffled at first. She couldn't make out everything.

"—needs rest. Make sure she listens." Aunt Ealhwyn. "Ask her later. Answers will come."

Silence again. Della stirred, willing her eyes to open. So much effort just to wake up and face the world again.

After what seemed like ages fighting against her body's will to stay asleep, Della opened her eyes slowly. Sunlight streamed in through the shuttered window. It must have been midafternoon by now.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head. Ealhwyn was gone.

"You're up."

She jolted. Merlin stood up from his seat at the table and brought her a bowl. "You're looking at me as if I were a ghost," he said.

"I thought you would've left by now."

He sat on the chair next to her bed. "I had to make sure you were all right. Your aunt asked me to watch over you for a few hours. Here, let me help you sit up."

"I can—"

"Perhaps, but look what happened last time you refused my help." He put the bowl down. Gently, he eased his right arm under her. "Grab my hand," he said, offering her his left hand. She did so hesitantly and he held it tight. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

He eased her to a reclined position. She grimaced a bit, her right side still sore from the injuries wrought against her. But the stabbing pain was gone. The cold paste of the comfrey wrapped bandages eased into her skin.

"Thank you," she said. Her face grew warm at his proximity. Though he'd been much closer earlier—and even carried her the nearly two miles home—she hadn't been aware of it. She realized she was still holding his hand and withdrew it.

"Here." He handed her a bowl of carrot and cabbage stew. "Your aunt said you needed to eat when you woke up."

She took the bowl. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until her stomach told her. Quite loudly.

Merlin smiled. "My own made a similar noise earlier. Go on and eat. I'll leave you alone." He started to get up but she grabbed his arm—a move that surprised them both. She let go quickly.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling her face warm again. "I don't know what's come over me. I just—well, I would like some company."

"All right." He sat back down. A moment of awkward silence stretched between them. Della took a bite of her stew, wondering why she had asked such a silly thing of him.

Merlin scratched the back of his head. "So...um. Ealhwyn went to visit a few of the villagers."

"I thought as much," Della replied. "She normally makes her rounds throughout the afternoon. Though I suspect she's spinning a tale as to why I was being carried by a stranger."

"Not many people were out then, but I was a bit preoccupied."

"One busybody is all it takes. The villagers love their gossip. Not much else to do out here besides that—and keep us busy delivering babies." _Oh dear._ Apparently she'd lost her propriety with the attack this morning as well.

He grinned. "I grew up in a small village. I know what you mean."

Della took another bite of her stew, silently berating herself for talking so boldly about villagers' conjugal habits.

He steered the conversation elsewhere, thankfully. "I'm guessing you help your aunt with the rounds often?"

"Sometimes, when she's out to another village. Many seek out her help and she travels a great deal. I'm used to being here alone." She realized how maudlin that sounded. "I spend the days making the poultices and tonic for our cabinet and for her medicine tote. Someday, I'll take over for her, but not for many years yet, the gods willing." She took another bite of her stew, her former nervousness fading.

Merlin smiled. "You remind me of myself. In Camelot, I used to assist the court physician. I often went on rounds with him, though he never trusted me to make his medicine. He often punished me by having me clean his leech tank!"

Della almost choked on her stew and had to spit out what was in her mouth. A laugh bubbled out of her though it was short lived as her bruised side protested with the unexpected movement.

"I'm glad the vision of me cleaning a leech tank brightened your day."

"It did, very much," she replied.

"It was a weekly occurrence, sometimes more. But that wasn't as bad as being sent to muck out the stables. Arthur used to make me do that when I would get on his nerves or smart mouth to him—which was practically a _daily_ occurrence there for awhile." He paused, his gaze turned wistful as if he were stepping back in time. "He could be a prat sometimes. Well, _most_ of the time." A profound sadness was evident in his words and he looked lost in thought. Della thought back on her vision of him, heartbroken and dejected. How many days had passed since then?

She didn't want to tell him how much she actually knew, how much she had seen. "Will you go back someday? To Camelot?"

Her question broke his contemplative silence. "I don't know," he said. His mood shifted again and his blue eyes stared unblinking at her. "You tell me."

Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean by that?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean," he said. "You called me Merlin earlier today. I've yet to tell you my name."

Della looked away, unable to meet his gaze. _He knows._

"Ealhwyn already told me you're a seer. She told me you saw Arthur's death at the hands of Mordred and that—" his voice caught. "And that you saw me at the lake sending him off. That's why you looked at me as if you'd met me before—because you have, in your visions."

She stayed silent, unsure of what to say. "I wish I hadn't been cursed with this…this _power._ I've yet to prevent my visions from happening. All the pain and suffering that I couldn't prevent," she closed her eyes, the weight of all the fulfilled prophecies coming to the forefront of her mind. "I've never wanted to see things that I couldn't change."

"Do you think I wanted the burden of my power? Or that I wanted to be in charge of Camelot's and Arthur's fate? Do you think I want to be destiny's puppet?"

She knew he wasn't mad at her, but at what life had given him. She felt guilty for venting as she did when he literally had the burden of an entire kingdom's future to contend with. "I'm sorry," she said, brushing the tears away. "I truly cannot comprehend what that's like—the pressure you had."

He put his head in his hands and sighed. "No. _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to trivialize your own pain. I know how much visions can mess with a person. I'm such an idiot, making a girl who almost died cry just hours later."

"You didn't make me cry," Della said. The last thing she wanted him to feel was guilt, on top of what he was coping with already. "My heart hurts for you. For us both really. Fate hasn't been kind to either of us."

"No, it hasn't. And I have a feeling fate isn't done with us yet."

She met his eyes and a silent understanding passed between them. No words were exchanged; the familiarity of each other's troubles was all that was needed. She felt as if she finally found someone who could truly relate to her.

Merlin cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "I can take your bowl if you're done eating."

"Oh…um, yes," she handed it to him, its contents only half gone. The conversation had made her lose her remaining appetite. "Thank you." He took her bowl and went back to the table, averting his gaze.

"I'll make some rosemary tea," he said. "Ealhwyn said it would help ease some of the pain from your bruising."

"All right." Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood for tea, but he seemed uncomfortable at whatever had passed between them.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For talking with me."

He nodded in acknowledgment and went back to preparing the tea. A wall had gone up between them. Perhaps that was best.

* * *

No more words were exchanged after she'd thanked him for the tea. He sensed her confusion at why he distanced himself from her, but to her credit, she left him alone and didn't push him.

Truth be told, it unnerved him how similar they were. Though he didn't know her past at all, there was a brokenness about her that he identified with all too easily. And for the space of one moment, he saw himself in her: weary and alone from the burden of being at the mercy of destiny's whims. He had yet to meet anyone who truly understood. Even Gaius and his own mother never really could understand how stifling it was to have such a great power, only to keep it hidden and to struggle with how to manage it.

Yet that's what made him uneasy: why had their paths crossed? If experience had taught him anything, it was that everything— _everything—_ had a consequence. What would his involvement in her life mean for the future?

Maybe he should leave, head back to Ealdor like he'd originally planned this morning—what seemed like an eternity ago. It never ceased to amaze him how things could change so drastically and so quickly.

By the gods, if only he'd been born normal.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading!**_


	3. All I See

Della watched as Merlin finished cleaning up and then sat on his chair at the table. At one point, he leaned on his arm and now sounded like he'd fallen asleep. After his morning, and all that magic he'd used, she wondered why it took him this long.

Ealhwyn's arrival broke the silence and Della was thankful. Though she was accustomed to being alone, usually she could at least sing to herself to avoid the quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb Merlin with her less than harmonious singing voice.

Her aunt smiled wide as she came to her bedside. "I'm relieved to see you're awake so soon. I was unsure how quickly you'd heal. It's been so long since I've used a spell that powerful." She busied herself with grabbing a pestle and mortar and gathering ingredients for the comfrey paste.

"Other than soreness, I feel fine. Merlin gave me some stew and tea so I'm not hungry, before you even ask."

"Good, good." She paused. "So. About our guest...?" She put the comfrey leaves in the mortar and started grinding it as she sat down next to Della.

"What about him?" Della asked. She wasn't sure why Ealhwyn trailed off.

"He had some questions about you. Initially he thought I was the seer. I wasn't going to tell him but I didn't think it right to lie to him either."

"I understand. I wouldn't want you to do that." She sighed. "I'm not sure how he took it. We were talking well enough and then—well, I'm not sure." She looked over at him, remembering the brief moment of understanding that passed between them. "He's so burdened. I thought I could identify with him for a moment, then he shut down."

"You two are similar in that way. More than you may think." Ealhwyn paused as she pulled out strips of cloth from her medicine bag and began to apply the paste. "I believe today marked the start of your destinies merging."

Della shook her head. "I'm just a village healer who's cursed with visions. I don't see how that will affect the greatest sorcerer of our time."

Ealhwyn stopped, her gaze serious. Della knew what that look meant: a lecture.

"You know very well that you're more than just a "seer." If you had been raised a Druid—"

"I would've been trained as a Vates, I know, I know."

"Your gift of prophecy is greater than many who have been trained. You just do not know how to interpret them, how to use them."

"You keep saying it's a gift but I've yet to experience that aspect of it. All I see is never-ending death of so many. Why should they die and I live?"

Ealhwyn grabbed her hand. "Stop thinking that. You were saved for a reason. I know you refuse to believe it but—"

Movement from the other end of the room stopped her from continuing. Merlin raised his arms and stretched and the conversation ended as Ealhwyn addressed him.

"You've taken care of our patient well," Ealhwyn said. "Thank you."

"Oh," he said. "Um…you're welcome." He stood up and looked out the small window. "I've slept too long. I'm sorry."

"The last thing you need to do is apologize for taking a nap," Ealhwyn said, finishing with applying paste to the new bandages. "But nightfall is nearly upon us. I do hope you will consider at least staying overnight?"

Della unwillingly tensed. She hoped that if he did, he'd at least talk to her again, or else it would be a very long night.

He hesitated but looked at Della. "I suppose I could stay one night. It'll be a welcome comfort over having rocks and twigs as my bed."

Ealhwyn smiled. "Wonderful. I'll start prepping supper after I finish helping Della here. Now if you don't mind for a moment, can you avert your eyes?" She gestured for him to turn around.

"Oh, yes, of course. Um actually I need to…." He stopped, scratched the back of his head nervously, and turned a slight shade of red. "I'll be right back." He went out the door and Della hid a smile.

"See? He's just as normal as the rest of us," Ealhwyn said.

* * *

Merlin waited a little longer after he returned before heading back inside the house, making sure to wait until Ealhwyn was done changing Della's wrappings. His mind wandered back to the snippets of conversation he overheard on the edge of waking.

 _All I see is never ending death. Why should they die and I live?_

How much death had she seen? And how young had she been when her visions started? He remembered how hard it was to hide his true self as a youth and the fear and isolation. Yet he couldn't imagine how it would be to see such disturbing visions at a young age. The few times he glimpsed the future always left him unsettled, even now.

The door opened then, interrupting his thoughts. "Come on in," Ealhwyn said. Della moved out of her bed and was sitting at the table.

"Do you need any help with the cooking?" Merlin asked.

"No," she said. "Besides, you've done your share of helping today."

"Aunt, you really should let me prepare supper," Della said.

Ealhwyn turned on her, giving her a look that made Merlin think of Gaius when he argued with him about what was best. "You nearly died this morning. You're lucky I'm allowing you to sit here instead of remaining in bed."

"I hate sitting still, you know that. Please, I can at least chop some—"

"One more word of argument and I'll ask Merlin here to cast a sleeping enchantment on you." She turned to Merlin. "Won't you?"

He knew from years of living with Gaius not to argue with that tone. He smiled and looked over at Della, who was turning a slight shade of pink. "Don't worry, it wouldn't be a long sleeping spell."

She smiled shyly. "All right, you both win. This time. But I'm making breakfast tomorrow."

* * *

She was thankful that whatever awkwardness passed between them hours earlier dissipated. For a moment, she glimpsed the person beneath the layers of grief and heartache and wondered what he would've been like had she met him years before. If her magic never appeared, if she were normal, she was certain she'd have crossed paths with him in Camelot, especially on those trips to Gaius' chambers, reading up on herb lore and modern medicine.

But that was a path that could never be trodden. So here she was now, eating supper across the table from a man broken by years of tragedy. _What would he think of me if I told him all that I've seen?_

She wasn't sure he'd speak to her again. She knew _she_ wouldn't trust someone who saw so much—and who she didn't know but a day.

But he would never know these things. She'd lock it away just as she had with everything else.

Della pushed the thoughts aside and rejoined the conversation. Ealhwyn was talking about her daily interaction with the villagers and the questions they had about Della's injury and the mysterious stranger seen carrying her.

"I told Mistress Helda a partial truth," Ealhwyn said. "Half the village knew by the time I left the cottage."

"I'm surprised the entire village hadn't known by then, what with Helda's talk," Della said.

"Ah, the village busybody," Merlin said. "I know that type well."

"Busybody is an understatement," Della continued. "The woman would make herself invisible and set herself up in every household if she could."

Merlin stifled a laugh.

"Della, be nice now," Ealhwyn chided, though she did so with a smile on her face. "She really is a caring woman," she said to Merlin. "Just…inquisitive."

Della rolled her eyes as she took a sip of water.

"She also said, and I quote "Well, if that's what it'll take for her to get herself married already, who am I to argue"?"

Della choked and she watched as Merlin quickly spit food out of his mouth in surprise.

"That woman—is—unbeliev—able," Della said, in between coughs. Her face felt like it was on fire. "And why would you see the need to repeat that?"

"I'm just making conversation," Ealhwyn said. "No one here really thinks that. No need to get all offended by it. You know how she is anyway." She continued eating.

She looked at Merlin out of the corner of her eye and saw his own face was turning quite scarlet in color too. She sighed. Sometimes her aunt could be just as tactless as Mistress Helda.

 _Thump, thump._ A knock at the door interrupted any further embarrassing conversation. "Now who could that be?" Ealhwyn wiped her hands on her apron and answered the door. "Why Alric, what brings you here?"

"Nerienda's having the labor pains, ma'am," the man's voice was unsteady. "Can you come?"

"Of course! Let me get my bag ready." Ealhwyn turned back into the house. "Seems Neri's firstborn wants to come a bit early. Della, can you grab the jar of motherswort and the extra cloth in the cupboard?"

She stood and did as she was told and Ealhwyn went into midwife mode. Her former gaiety was replaced by a straightforward, no-nonsense attitude. "I'll be back when I can. Merlin, can—"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't overextend herself," he said. Ealhwyn nodded in thanks, grabbed her cape, threw it over her shoulders and was out the door.

More awkward silence.

"I feel I should apologize for my aunt earlier," Della said, breaking it. "She shouldn't have repeated that woman's words."

Merlin looked a bit confused. "Don't be. " Seeing her puzzled look, he quickly continued. "I mean to say, I thought it was funny." He smiled.

"Well then, at least one of us did."

"You didn't think it was funny?"

Della sighed. "Perhaps a few years ago, when I was younger, I would've. But the women of this village are forever trying to get me married off, when there's no chance of that happening."

"You don't want to get married?"

Why was he asking? "It's not that," she said. "But it's this pesky little thing called magic. I'd have to be dishonest with my spouse and I couldn't live like that, knowing I'd always have to keep that part of me hidden away. And then if children were born with it…" she shook her head. She'd seen how that happened, with her own parents. "It's better off this way."

"There was a time when I thought that maybe I could have that life. You know, a wife, kids, a house with a view of the mountains…" he trailed off, lost in memory. "She knew me for what I was. But she's gone. I nearly left Camelot and Arthur for her."

She hadn't expected that. "You must've loved her tremendously," Della said. Part of her heart ached to know that kind of love. "What was her name?"

"Freya," he continued. "I was young, she was my first and only love. I only knew her for two days before she was killed. She was cursed and turned into a man-eating beast at night. Arthur and the knights killed her. They had to do so in order to save innocent lives."

"Oh! That's more tragic than I thought."

"Seems to be the story of my life more often than not." He tried to smile, but the grief was evident.

"I don't understand," Della said. "The amount of people you've cared about over the years, lost to death. I don't know how you can keep going on and not be completely consumed by it."

"Sometimes I don't know either," he said. "I've always tried to be hopeful, to think of the future. To be honest, I'm about as lost now as I've ever been." He quickly added, "But don't worry about me. I'll figure it out. I always do."

Della wasn't convinced; she wasn't sure he truly believed that either. Through all her visions of him and now, after meeting him in person in the space of a few hours, she could already tell he was the type of man to rarely think of himself—even to his detriment.

She stood up slowly and began to grab the dirty bowls and cups. "Wait just a moment," he said, grabbing her wrist. "Ealhwyn was very clear that you aren't to exert yourself more than needed."

She pulled her arm from his grasp. "Washing a few bowls is not exerting myself." She made her way to the small wooden basin they used for laundry and dishes.

Only two steps in and she suddenly was unable to move her limbs, frozen in place. "What—Merlin, let me go!"

"I was told to stop you if needed. You're lucky I didn't cast a sleeping enchantment like your aunt suggested earlier."

"For the love of—I'm just washing dishes!" She concentrated on trying to break the spell of her own accord. " _Onbindan."_ For the briefest of moments, she was able to shuffle one of her feet forward, but not before she felt her muscles bind up even tighter.

"Good try," Merlin said, coming up next to her and taking the dirty plate from her hands. She never realized how tall he was until he was standing next to her, his blue eyes briefly alight with something akin to mischief. "Now, will you stop being stubborn and sit there while I wash? Or do I have to keep you bound up like this until I'm done?"

She knew very well he was serious. "All right," she said, frustrated. "Now please, unbind me?"

His eyes flashed gold and her muscles relaxed instantly. She sat back down in her chair as he began to wash the dishes.

As much as she wanted to be angry at him, she admired his sense of duty to protect her. He certainly was dedicated to keeping a promise.

He remained silent as he completed the chore, the only sound in the small cottage that of the sloshing of water in the wash basin.

Della sighed. She was tired of the back and forth awkwardness between them. It was time to remedy that. The last few hours—days even—for either of them had been emotionally and physically draining.

"I don't know about you," she began, "but conversation today between us has been rather…heavy and uncomfortable at times. How about we start over?"

He stopped for a moment and looked over at her, intrigued. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Let's pretend neither one of us is shouldered with the burden of destiny. Just talk as Della and Merlin. Two _normal_ people. No talk of magic allowed."

"That could be a challenge since the secret's out between us," he said.

"Perhaps," she countered. "But it might come easier to you than you think. You've been able to keep quiet for years while living in Uther's shadow, just as I've done here in the village. Now imagine neither one of us has any inclination the other has magic and see what comes up. At the very least it'll pass the time." _And break the incessant silence._

He smiled then, and she could almost see relief wash over his features. "I'm up for that."

* * *

He didn't know why he doubted the ease of slipping back into his old habits of keeping his magic hidden. Maybe it had been because they'd known from the onset both were sorcerers, but pretending they weren't made for a comforting turn in discussion between them.

She talked of living in the quiet village, learning herb lore and medicine from Ealhwyn over the years. That made him remember his childhood in Ealdor and he recalled the non-magical mischief he used to find himself getting into.

"Something tells me that's still a part of you," she said, laughing, her brown eyes shining in the firelight.

"I've been known to pull a few pranks in Camelot too," he said. "Of course they normally got me into trouble. But they were worth it."

Conversation continued in that vein until the fire began to die down and the sky grew ever darker. Della stifled a yawn and he found himself growing sleepy as well. It had been a welcomed relief to forget the past troubles of the last few days, even if just for a few hours.

"We should probably turn in for the night," he said. "You need your rest, and I'll need to be heading to Ealdor early."

She nodded and for a moment, he saw sadness pass over her face. She hid it quickly by standing up and going about the room. "I'll make a bed up for you. I'm afraid we don't have much…" she grabbed some worn blankets from within a cupboard and stopped suddenly, grabbing her side.

Instantly, he was by her side, taking the blankets from her. "I've been slacking in my caretaker duties," he said. "I'll make my own bed."

"Merlin, I—"

He shook his head and she sighed. "Fine," she conceded as she walked over to the bed, rubbing her injured side. He suspected her bandages would need changed, though Ealhwyn wasn't back yet. He couldn't do that—it would be inappropriate—but he could at least make them up for her.

He put down his bedding and walked over to their small apothecary cabinet and looked for the ingredients.

"What are you doing?"

"Making up your new bandages," he said, grabbing the mortar and pestle. "I know I can't re-bind you, but I can at least make these up."

She shook her head slightly and looked down.

"What is it?" He asked, pausing what he was doing.

"I've never met someone who is so selfless," she said, her voice quiet. "You're truly a remarkable person, Merlin."

He felt his face warm at her compliment. He was unaccustomed to praise, save from Gaius every so often.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she said, her own face turning a bit pink in the waning firelight. "I just thought you needed to hear that."

"Thank you," he said. All the years he'd done such great things that often went unnoticed, never once wanting praise. But it was nice to hear, to feel acknowledged. He had a feeling she meant it more than just putting together her bandages. The look in her eyes when she'd said it, he wondered how much of his life she had truly seen in those visions of hers. Maybe he didn't want to know.

He finished applying the green comfrey paste to the new bandages and placed them on the chair next to Della's bed. "I'll be over here if you need anything," he said, turning to the opposite wall so as to give her privacy. He decided to put together his makeshift bed in the space next to the table; there really wasn't any other spot as Ealhwyn's bed was on the opposite wall. Still it would be more comfortable than sleeping in the forest, and he'd done that so many times over the years.

"I'm almost done," Della said from across the room. "Then you can—" she stopped abruptly, her breath catching.

"Della?" He turned his head, still making sure to avert his glance but trying to see in his peripheral vision what caused her to stop. "Do you need help?"

The only answer was a broken gasp and what sounded like her knocking the chair over.

Without hesitation, he quickly made his way over to her side. A sudden feeling of heaviness came over him, as if the air around her was thicker—almost like an invisible, heavy fog.

His heart beat faster as he quickly grabbed a blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was sitting on the ground, her head leaning into her arm which was resting on the legs of the overturned chair. She'd managed to finish wrapping her wounds, but her shoulders were bare—as well as her legs. "Della? Della, answer me," he said, gently turning her head to face him. "What's wr—"

He stopped. Her eyes were the ever recognizable brilliant shade of gold, unblinking and focused beyond him, elsewhere, in another time and place. She was eerily still, her body limp.

 _She's having a vision_. He'd never seen anyone go into catatonic state before—Morgana's visions had taken place while she slept and his own were always facilitated by crystal or water.

All these years of using magic, of learning its ways, and its mysteries still surprised him.

He held Della close, unsure of what to do. Damn it, why did this have to happen while Ealhwyn was away? All he could do now was hold her and hope that nothing went wrong. He hated sitting here, unable to help.

What seemed like an eternity later, the golden hue of her eyes slowly faded back to brown. She sat up, gasping for breath as if she were under water. Her body shook as she coughed and bent over the floor, retching the contents of her stomach. She brought her hand up to wipe her mouth.

He put a hand on her shoulder. What could he do? He was afraid to hear what she had seen. She put her face in her hands and started weeping. How often did she go through this?

He brought her closer and pulled his other arm around her. She leaned into him, still quiet. Still crying. Then, she pulled away, suddenly aware of her close proximity to him and lack of clothing.

''Forgive me," she said. "I…I am always unsteady after." She made a move to get up and he grabbed her arm to help her. She shook her head. "Please. I'm fine. I just…need to get dressed. Need to clean up."

"Are you serious?" He said. "What about what you saw? What about—"

"No!" Her vehemence and fire in her eyes stopped him mid thought. "I can't—I can't do this right now."

"Della, you _need_ to tell me what you saw. You can't just push it aside."

She turned on him, her long braid nearly smacking him in the process. "You want to know what I saw? What I _always_ see. Death." Her voice was exceptionally clear and steady. "I saw this village burning. Saw friends and neighbors crying, screaming, _dying._ I saw a hoarde of Saxons shooting them down, setting roofs on fire." She went quiet and he almost didn't hear what she said next.

"And I saw you."

* * *

 _A/N: A Vates was a group of gifted seers. They were mentioned in S5 E1 Arthur's Bane by Kilgharrah._

 **Next chapter: the attack on Havenswood.**


	4. Yet to Come

Campfires dotted the landscape in the forest at the foot of the mountains. Randel surveyed the group. He estimated close to fifty men. Men, such as he, who desired vengeance for their fallen friends at the hands of the sorcerer who wielded lightning at Camlann.

The memory of his younger brother, taking his last breath in his arms, assailed him. He'd taken the brunt of the shock from the lightning wielded through the sorcerer's staff. Randel could still feel the secondary burns on his hands and feet that he'd received in passing.

His soldiers had found two men running in the woods just an hour prior, completely unarmed and with fear in their eyes. That same fear he'd seen at Camlann in those who succumbed to the sorcerer's powers. The men, Sighard and Theabul, had said they lost two of their brethren to a powerful sorcerer in the woods.

"He avoided our arrows with an unspoken flash of his eyes," Sighard said.

"He conjured up quicksand that nearly swallowed us alive," Theabul replied.

"What did he look like?" Randel asked.

"He was young," Sighard said. "And unassuming. He looked like a simple farm boy…but then…." He closed his eyes. "I can still hear the crunch of Redwald's bones as he sent him into a tree like a rag doll."

"This must be a different sorcerer then," Theabul said. "The man at Camlann was ancient."

Randel thought about that. Perhaps he was related to the older sorcerer, taught up by him.

Or they were one in the same.

He knew how easily a sorcerer could cast a spell to make themselves change appearance. He'd seen it before in his homeland to the west and here after following Morgana for months. She was dead though, found in the woods not far from here. He couldn't say he felt particularly remorseful. She had been on the verge of insanity. He only followed her because of what she had promised—land and prosperity.

"Where did you encounter this sorcerer?" Randel asked.

"A few miles south of the lake of Avalon," Theabul said.

"Any villages nearby?"

"One by the name of Havenswood, about a mile east of the attack."

"Thank you, my friends," Randel said. "I am sorry for the losses you endured these past few days. We shall endeavor to make it right."

And make it right they would. Randel would chase that sorcerer down to the ends of the earth—he would see him squirm and cry out in pain as he lost the ones he loved, just as he did when his closest friends and brothers fell.

Havenswood it was then. That's where they'd look for this sorcerer—and that's where his people would feel their retribution.

* * *

It came on suddenly, like all the visions ever did. The world faded around her, and a heavy yet invisible fog descended. Then the images, the voices. The ever calling cries in the silence. Cries that went unanswered.

 _Fire. So much that she feels the heat of it surround her. The Saxons, dragging people to the center of the village, surrounding them on all sides, bloodlust in their eyes._

 _Mistress Helda on her knees. "Please, don't harm us. We are just farmers, mothers, widows, children—" Then, slapped across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground._

 _The man who hit her, towers over her, his dark brown hair blowing in the wind, the thick fur vest caked in mud and grime. He addresses the rest. "You are hiding a sorcerer. Bring him here before me."_

 _It fades and then she sees a blinding, searing light. Many of the attackers are suddenly thrown from their feet, their bodies immobile once they hit the ground._

 _The Saxon leader bellows in rage. "Kill them all!" People are running, crying, trying their best to protect themselves. The remaining Saxons charge forth, swords drawn, attacking as arrows fly through the air._

 _The images come faster now, jumbled and disjointed. She sees friends and neighbors bleeding, struck down in the street. Little Melita, her blonde hair matted with blood. Nerienda, the new mother, face down in the mud, still in her shift from giving birth. She feels a scream come from the depths of her soul, so strong the sky itself seems to shake as more Saxons are thrown violently to the ground._

 _Then, she sees Merlin, kneeling there on the ground, with a mud streaked face, a developing bruise on his right cheek. His eyes, full of righteous fury, flash a brilliant gold._

The images blurred together, the fog around her lifted. She could breathe again, and her world abruptly came into focus. She had a vague awareness of a blanket thrown over her shoulders and two arms surrounding her, but the sudden shift between reality and the unknown always threw her senses into chaos and the inevitable nausea overwhelmed her.

Quickly she moved forward, her body shaking as her supper made a second appearance on the dirt floor in front of her. She wiped her mouth, angry and upset about the course of events. A hand was on her shoulder and then she felt herself being drawn into Merlin's embrace. For a moment, she lets herself cry and be comforted by his presence.

Then she remembered what she was wearing: nothing but bandages on her upper half. Immediately propriety takes over and she pushed away, suddenly aware of how inappropriate she was acting.

''Forgive me," she said. "I…I am always unsteady after." She made a move to get up and he grabbed her arm to help her. She shook her head. "Please. I'm fine. I just…need to get dressed. Need to clean up."

"Are you serious?" He said. "What about what you saw? What about—"

"No! I can't—I can't do this right now."

"Della, you _need_ to tell me what you saw. You can't just push it aside."

She turned on him, her long braid nearly smacking him in the process. "You want to know what I saw? What I _always_ see. Death. I saw this village burning. Saw friends and neighbors crying, screaming, _dying._ I saw a horde of Saxons shooting them down, setting roofs on fire." The sounds of the villagers' cries of terror still echoed in her mind. Then, she recalled the image of Merlin standing there, anger shrouding him. She stopped. "And I saw you."

He looked confused but concerned. "What do you mean you saw me?"

"I saw you kneeling on the ground, injured…and then your eyes flashed gold. And the vision ended."

He was silent for a moment and looked away. He looked like he was thinking, processing what she said.

"All right," his voice was remarkably calm. "Can you tell when this will take place? In a few days, a few hours…?"

She thought back on the images. The vision of Nerienda, whom Ealhwyn was still assisting at her child's birth, flashed before her. "It's going to be soon. Within a day."

Merlin stood up. "Then we need to warn the villagers. Now."

"Wait." She wrapped the blanket around her tighter and stood in front of him. How could she make him understand? "How are you going to do that? Just knock on every door and say, "Della had a vision that the town's going to be destroyed today.' They don't know I have magic, Merlin. If they knew…" she closed her eyes. "They've lost so many to sorcery over the last few years already. Their hearts are hardened against anyone who has even a hint of magic."

"Then I'll say I had the vision. I'll show them I'm the sorcerer."

She shook her head. "Even if you do, I guarantee you they will not listen. Merlin, this will _still happen._ Every vision I've ever had has happened the exact way I've seen it."

"Well maybe this is the first time it won't. There are many different paths, different outcomes—"

"No, you aren't _listening_." She was growing frustrated. "That may be the case with most prophets but not with me."

He crossed his arms, anger and defiance in his eyes. "So you're telling me you're just going to sit here and let these people be massacred? The very villagers who are your neighbors and your friends. You're not even going to give them a chance? All because you're worried how they will react when they find out there's a sorcerer here?"

She could feel her own frustration bubbling up. "That's not it at all. You don't—"

The door opened then, stopping them both in the middle of their argument. Ealhwyn walked in and shut it behind her. "What's this now? I heard raised voices before I even got to the door." She pushed a few strands of her graying hair out of her face and Della saw the exhaustion from the last few hours written in her eyes. "Della?"

Della took a shaky breath. "I had another vision."

Ealhwyn came to her and grabbed her hand. "Tell me, child, what did you see?"

She swallowed, afraid she wouldn't be able to get the entire summary out. "We're all in grave danger, aunt. I saw…I saw the village on fire, the people dying, shot down by Saxons."

"And she saw me," Merlin said. "At the end of her vision, I was there." He paused and continued, speaking faster, the words tumbling out. "She says that her vision cannot be changed. But we need to at least try to warn the people. I'll tell them I'm the one who saw it, show them I'm the sorcerer, that way Della can keep her secret and live here in peace. "

Della continued. "I told him it's not that easy. If anything they will demand he leave immediately."

Ealhwyn remained silent in contemplation. "I am going to support Merlin on this."

"What?" Had exhaustion made her aunt stop thinking clearly? "Aunt, you know it will be for naught. My visions never change and you know the villagers, how they—"

Ealhwyn held her hand up which stopped Della mid-thought. "I know you're remembering what happened with the Dorocha. But the least we can do is attempt to stop it. If they choose not to listen, we will proceed from there."

Merlin interjected. "What happened last time?"

Della shut her eyes, trying to block out the memory. It was one of the worst moments of her life. She remembered it as if it were only yesterday, remembered the screams of the wraiths as they attacked at nightfall, as they killed much of the village.

Ealhwyn saw her distress and continued. "Della had a vision of the veil between the worlds torn apart. She saw Morgana open it. Then she saw families here struck down, the light fading from their eyes as the Dorocha consumed them."

"And I couldn't do a damn thing about it," Della said. "I didn't warn them because I knew the outcome. I knew that I couldn't change it or prevent them from coming."

"That was different," Merlin said, his voice quiet. "The Dorocha were nearly unstoppable until—"

"Until a life was sacrificed," Della finished. "I know that as well. I saw you and Arthur and the knights in front of the veil. I saw you screaming and watched as one sacrificed himself to close the tear."

Merlin remained silent. She saw hesitation and disbelief in his eyes. _He's realizing I've seen him in my visions more than I let on._

"Della, we have to try this time," Ealhwyn said. "I agreed with you then, but this may yet be preventable."

"What makes you think that? Nothing we do is going to change it-if anything, it will happen because of it." She knew she sounded fatalistic, but after years of seeing things she hadn't been able to change, it was hard to feel anything otherwise.

"Well, I'm going to warn them regardless," Merlin said. "I can't hold onto this knowledge and wait for a massacre to occur when there's even the smallest possibility it can change."

"Fine," Della said. "I give up trying to convince you. Just ignore me and every past experience I've had. But don't be surprised when you encounter resistance and find things play out exactly how I've said."

Merlin shook his head and didn't say anything else. He went out the door without another word.

Ealhwyn embraced her and kissed her forehead. "Try and be hopeful." She let go and left the cottage.

Della let out a ragged breath and fought the tears that threatened to come. She wished she could be hopeful, but she knew, deep down to the core of her being, that nothing would change.

* * *

Merlin walked with Ealhwyn to the village leader's household. The night air was heavy with a fine mist, making everything damp and cool. The heaviness in the air matched what Merlin sensed was on the horizon. Though he was no seer, the conviction with which Della spoke rattled him. But there was something else too—what she had said about the Dorocha. That was years ago, yet she had seen him then as well. How many years had she had visions with him in it?

Damn prophecies.

"Be ready for whatever reaction awaits," Ealhwyn said. "Della is right about how the villagers react to magic. Top that with us waking them in the middle of the night and well…."

"I'll take my chances if it means one life is saved."

"And if it doesn't change a thing?" Ealhwyn countered. "If destiny is set in stone?"

He hesitated, thinking back to everything that led up to Arthur's death. How much he tried to prevent it, only for it to still happen regardless. Was this another instance of a similar fate? _I have to try._ "I've made so many mistakes in the past. I don't want this to be another one."

They stopped in front of the village leader's door, a man by the name of Oswin. "Are you ready?" Ealhwyn asked.

Merlin nodded.

Ealhwyn knocked on the door. Merlin could hear snoring stop for moment, then start up again. She knocked again. This time the sound stopped and there were voices. He heard the man swear. "Father…who's knocking now?" He heard a boy's sleep-weary voice.

The door opened and a tall man greeted them, with gray hair at his temples and mixed in with the brown of his beard. He squinted in the firelight of Ealhwyn's rush torch. "Ealhwyn, what brings you here at this hour?" He looked over at Merlin, hesitation crossing his brow. "What's wrong?"

Ealhwyn's took a breath. "I'm afraid a great deal. And you may not like how it's come about." She looked at Merlin. "We must speak with you and the other elders."

"Are you bloody serious? It's the dead of night!"

"This concerns the safety of everyone in this village, so yes, Oswin I am bloody serious." Her tone was even but held a ferocity in it that made Merlin see the woman in a new light.

Oswin's former irritation quickly turned to concern. "All right. Let me get dressed." He eyed Merlin again and what former resolve he had earlier was fading.

He felt the familiar mental tug of an unspoken message. Ealhwyn's voice echoed in his head. _If they ask, keep your identity a secret. They do not need to know your tie to Arthur or to the recent battle._

 _Understood._ He doubted they would believe that anyhow.

Oswin emerged from the cabin moments later. "Let's go." He said nothing more and Merlin made sure to keep his distance. They walked in silence as they went to the other cottages—each member of the elders slightly more hesitant and more irritated. Merlin made sure to remain in the background but he never missed the suspicion in each man's eyes as they looked at him.

They reached the fourth and final elder's house, which they used as their gathering place. It belonged to an older, balding man named Algar, with a hawkish nose and equally harsh eyes.

"What's the stranger doing here, Ealhwyn?" he asked.

"I am wondering the same myself," said the second elder, a younger man named Edward. "Does this have to do with him and the incident in the woods with Della?" He eyed him suspiciously and for a brief moment, Merlin detected jealousy in his tone. "Is she doing all right? Many of us have been worried about her."

"She's recovering well, Edward," Ealhwyn said. "And in some ways, yes it has to do with yesterday's incident." She nodded to Merlin. "Our friend here has some important information regarding the men who attacked."

"And does our friend have a name?" asked the final elder, Bernard.

"My name is—Will." Merlin caught himself using the first name that came to mind. _Sorry, Will._ Once again, his childhood friend hid Merlin's true self. "And the men weren't just bandits—they were Saxons."

"We knew this already," Edward said. "Just two rogue soldiers that weren't chased off by Camelot's knights. Unfortunately Della was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I—er, we—are all grateful you were there to help. "

 _Back to her again, I see._ This Edward fellow definitely fancied her.

"Though I still don't know how you," he looked Merlin up and down, "managed to kill two much larger and heavily armed men. "

"That is a very good question," Oswin said. "Are you a knight in disguise? Or…what?"

Merlin was amazed at how attuned these folk were. Ten years in Camelot and Arthur and most of the knights never had any suspicions, despite the number of scrapes he managed to get out of miraculously. They must've been more oblivious—or just willfully blind.

He didn't want to come right out and say it just yet. He wanted to see if they could deduce it on their own. "Perhaps I am just a really good fighter."

All four men laughed. Hard.

Ealhwyn just rolled her eyes in response. _Ignore them._ She said telepathically.

 _Prats. The lot of them._ "All right then," Merlin said. "I'd like to know what you think happened."

The men stopped laughing and grew quiet, exchanging glances with one another. Bernard spoke up. "There's been talk that maybe…maybe it was sorcery." The three nodded in response and looked at Merlin.

"Though you don't exactly _look_ like a sorcerer," Edward said.

Merlin suppressed an eye roll. "And what exactly does a sorcerer look like, Edward?" This man was really getting under his skin with all his presumptions and judgments about him.

"I don't know, just not…you. I mean, don't take it the wrong way, but you just look like a man off the farm."

 _If only._ Merlin thought. It was time to end this guessing game and show them already. They were wasting time. "Well, it looks like you're wrong this time," he said. He opened his hand. " _Forbærnan."_ The small fire ball hovered above his hand. Just as quickly, he closed his palm, the light fading. "Now do I look like a simple farmer?"

Silence. Then, "What do you want with us, sorcerer?" Algar asked. He turned to Ealhwyn, who had been quiet in the corner for much of the time. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew,"Ealhwyn said. "His magic _saved_ Della. She likely would've died from her injuries if not for him."

"But a _sorcerer_!" Oswin said. "You know…you know how this town has been destroyed by that evil! My wife and daughter were victims of it, Ealhwyn. You remember don't you?"

"Not all magic is evil," Merlin interrupted. "Not all magic users are—"

"Enough from you," Oswin pointed at him. "Why did you wake us all up in the middle of the night to show us this? He needs to leave _immediately."_

Ealhwyn looked apologetically at Merlin. "You need to hear what he has to say."

"I don't want to hear it!" Oswin said.

"Neither do I," Edward chimed in. "It's likely lies."

Merlin's irritation became anger. "Are you serious? I know you've all been hurt before by magic—so have I—many times—but what I have to tell you affects the lives of everyone here in this village. People are going to die if—"

"So now you threaten us?"

 _Poor choice of words, you idiot._ Merlin chastised himself. "I promise you, I am not going to harm you. I'm trying to _save_ your stubborn, prejudiced arses!"

That shut them up, at least for the moment. Bernard spoke up. "Let him talk. It must have merit enough for Ealhwyn to have us gathered at this unconventional hour."

Finally a voice of reason, Merlin thought.

Oswin grumbled. "Fine. But be quick."

He took a breath, trying to remember everything Della said, trying to decide what needed told and what needed kept behind. "I had a vision. There are more Saxons coming, dozens in fact. They're coming to raid the village. It will likely happen in less than a day."

The men looked unconvinced—just as Della had said.

"This "vision"—how can we trust it?" Edward said. "How do we know it's not some setup?"

"I agree," Algar said. "Maybe you're working for them and this is all part of your plan. Have us all leave the safety of our homes only to ambush us."

Merlin shook his head. "Why? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Oh I don't know," Oswin said. "Why did the witch Morgana align herself with them? For power. For revenge. We may not live in the royal city itself, but we—the simple farmers and craftsman out here in the forests—we have often borne the brunt of her curses. We know how she would've done anything to burn this kingdom to the ground, how many innocents are dead because of her. How do we know you weren't trained up to take her place?"

Merlin clenched his fists. The treachery of Morgana never ended. How could he get through to these people? "Is there no way I can gain your trust?"

Ealhwyn chimed in. "If what he says is true, Havenswood could be completely destroyed. Do you want to see that?"

The men were stoic in their resolve. "To be honest, Ealhwyn, I am surprised by you," Oswin said. "How can you trust him so implicitly? He is a stranger. He may have saved your niece, but I don't put it past _his kind_ to have set it all up as an elaborate ruse."

Merlin tossed up his hands in frustration. "You know what? I'm done here. I've tried to warn you. If you choose not to listen, then so be it."

He turned around and left the cottage, frustrated at their unwillingness to listen. He underestimated just how hardened they were against magic. He wondered if a similar attitude was pervasive throughout the kingdom. If so, how much of this was on his head? So many times, he could've admitted the truth about himself to Arthur. He could've shown how magic could be used for good. _Could've, would've, should've._

Frustration towards the elders turned into frustration at himself. All they had seen recently was the evil precipitated by people such as Morgana. His own hesitance led to this.

And now, even more blood would be on his hands.

* * *

Della sat in the waning firelight, waiting anxiously for Ealhwyn and Merlin's return. She chewed on her already nonexistent nails in anticipation. Would they be successful in convincing the leaders of the village about the danger?

She wanted to hope for the best, but expected the worst.

As if in answer to her thoughts, Merlin strode through the door, his worn brown jacket damp from the mist. The look on his face told her all she needed to know, yet she asked anyway.

"How did it go?"

He glanced at her and looked away. "Exactly how you said it would: they wouldn't listen. In fact, they all but accused me of coming up with an elaborate plan, saying that I was working with the attackers in the woods this morning from the start." He shook his head in disbelief and sat down across from her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "They also demanded I leave immediately. Everything you warned me about. And I didn't listen. Again. You'd think I'd learn after all these years…" he shut his eyes, his voice catching.

Instinctively, Della reached across the table and put her hand over his. "You were only trying to help. Please, do not blame yourself for their inability to listen."

"That's the thing," he said. "I _should_ blame myself for it. Their reaction to sorcery has been building up through the constant misuse of magic, specifically from Morgana herself. There were so many times I could've stopped her…but I waited. Maybe it was me hoping she had some small bit of compassion left from the girl I first met when I came to Camelot. I don't know. But it all comes back to me and my mistakes."

"You cannot shoulder the burden of all the world's problems, Merlin. You are just one man."

"A man with the destiny of Albion placed upon him."

What else could she say? She knew he did have a weight upon him that no one else had. But to believe everything that went wrong was his fault? She wished she could convince him otherwise.

The door opened and Ealhwyn came in. Della realized her hand was still on top of Merlin's and removed it quickly. Ealhwyn didn't seem to notice as she sat down and sighed.

"I tried my best to convince them after you left," Ealhwyn said. "But they claimed I was likely under a spell."

Merlin threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

"They also demanded you leave at morning's first light," she continued.

"And how exactly can four stubborn fools make me do that?" Merlin said. "If I'm as evil and as cunning as they think, what exactly can they do? Chase me out with a pitchfork?" He had a point. "I'm not leaving. I'll take my chances with them. If the Saxons are on the horizon, the entire village will be slaughtered. No one will stand a chance."

"And I completely agree," Ealhwyn said. "I told them you were still a guest in my home and if they wanted you to leave, they would have to burn the house down. They didn't argue with me after anymore, though I suspect we may have the entire village at our door tomorrow."

"So," Della said. "What do we do now?"

"Now," Ealhwyn said. "Now we prepare ourselves as best as we can for a fight. And we wait for the inevitable."

* * *

 _This chapter's song: Siren (Home Fires Theme)- Samuel Sim (I see this as "Della's song" in general :) )_

* * *

 **A/N: _So this chapter went in a different direction than planned, what with the villagers' fear and prejudice of all things magic related. But I promise the next one will be the actual attack on Havenswood._**

 _ **I want to thank my amazing beta, Requiem17, for helping me polish this to where it's readable-and for helping me keep Della out of Mary Sue territory! I highly recommend her Merlin fic, Three Wheels: A Year for Secrets. Quite possibly the best Merlin fic I've read. I also got the song idea from her too :)**_

 _ **Also thank you to those who are following this story. It makes me happy to know I have people who are interested in my little version of everything post-series**_.


	5. Attack on Havenswood

**_This chapter contains some violence. Just a warning!_**

* * *

The first sign of dawn colored the horizon, the light reflecting off the glass bottles of tonic on Ealhwyn's medicinal shelf. The light broke Della out of her half slumber. She had drifted into a half awake reality, the images of her vision twisting themselves into demons and shadowy figures with no faces.

Both Merlin and Ealhwyn were still asleep. Merlin had fallen asleep with his head on the table again, reminiscent of the day before. Della's gaze drifted over to her aunt. She succumbed to her exhaustion from helping Nerienda deliver her child, her head resting in the crook of her arm. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered her vision, seeing the new mother lifeless on the ground. She choked back a sob, hating herself for seeing such horrors that she could not prevent.

The sound broke Merlin from his own half slumber. He lifted his head and focused on the shafts of light coming in from the slatted window. "Dawn already." He turned back to her. "Have you slept at all?"

She shakes her head. "I couldn't. I was haunted by…" She knew she couldn't finish the thought without crying.

"I'm so very sorry that you have this burden," he said, his voice barely audible. His words had years of weight and pain behind them and she knew all too well he speaks from experience. Experience she wished neither of them had. "We will do what we can to save as many—"

He didn't finish as the sound of a lone scream in the distance carried through the window followed by the unmistakable battle cries of dozens of men.

Della's stomach dropped at the sound and she was certain she would've thrown up if she'd had any food left in her stomach. This was happening much faster than she'd thought.

Ealhwyn immediately woke up, her eyes hazy, yet alert. Merlin stood up just as fast and went for the door, but Della grabbed his arm. "Don't! Not yet. Please."

"I have to try and stop them," he said, almost frantic. "I need to—"

"They're looking for _you,_ Merlin." Della said. He stopped, confusion in his eyes. "The whole reason they came here was to find you."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" His confusion turned to anger. "If they just wanted me, I could've met them away from here. Why did you keep this from me?"

"I…I don't know," Della said, frantically trying to find the words. "Because I have a feeling they won't be satisfied with you handing yourself over. I think there's something more sinister behind it. I…I can't be certain, I didn't see it, but—"

Merlin pulled his arm out of her grasp as the cries of the half awake villagers mingled in with the shouts of Saxons. The smell of fire wafted through the window. "I'm not waiting a moment longer. I have to do what I can. _Now. "_ He turned away and attempted to leave but this time Ealhwyn stood in front of him.

"Your time will come," she said. "But let's not be hasty. From the sounds of it, they will be at our door in a matter of moments."

"Moments that I could be doing something!" He tried to maneuver around her but she blocked him further.

"Do you not remember Della's vision?" Ealhwyn said.

"The parts she didn't withhold," he said. She didn't mistake the edge in his voice.

"They're gathering everyone in one spot. If you act now, it is likely the bloodshed will be greater. If we are all in one spot, so will they be. You will be able to better defend and attack there won't you?"

Della held her breath. Would he see Ealhwyn's sense? Or act rashly like she'd known him to do from past visions?

"All right," he said, begrudgingly. "You make a valid point. It will be difficult, but I can try and cast a shield around the villagers."

At that moment, the unmistakable voices of the Saxons echoed outside. The door was kicked in repeatedly and Della held back a scream. Ealhwyn came to her side immediately. "Remember to be brave this day," she said. "Much will change from here on."

The words were strangely prophetic and a chill went down Della's spine. Before she could even think to ask what was meant by it, the door was fully kicked in and three Saxons rushed in. She could tell Merlin was struggling to contain his magic by the dark look in his eyes. She'd only ever seen that look briefly in the woods and it in itself was distressing.

"Don't fight us and you may survive," one of the Saxons said. One Saxon grabbed each of them and led them out of the cottage.

"Perhaps a few of you will be lucky to come back as brides," said the one holding her arm, giving her a squeeze and smiling at her as his gaze traveled over her body. She held back the urge to spit on him or set his arm alight with fire like the attacker in the woods.

Almost instantly, the man fell to the ground, a distinctive snap of bone echoing around them. "My ankle!"

Sure enough, the man's foot was twisted in an unnatural direction. His two companions rushed to his side, as well as a few others who were ushering out villagers from their homes. Della looked at Merlin, who pointedly looked away. Ealhwyn looked at him too. Before either could say any more, a new group of Saxons came forth and began pushing them down the street. "Move it! Now!" They didn't argue and thankfully, none other attempted to escort them physically.

As they walked together, the images from her mind's eye sprang to life in front of her. Some of the cottages were already burning and embers of the thatched roofs filled the air. She watched as friends and neighbors were being pushed down the street to one spot, where they were congregated.

She spotted Edward, one of the young leaders of village, with a rapidly developing bruise over his eye and the head elder Oswin bracing his son's shoulders. Oswin glanced over at her and then saw Merlin. Their eyes met and Oswin looked away, a mix of shame and anger in his eyes.

Della watched as Merlin shook his head. "If they had just listened to me, we could've gotten most of the people to safety," he said, just loud enough for her to hear.

"I know." What else could she say?

Tears from women and children surrounded them as the Saxons roughly pushed them into the ever growing group.

Della reached for his hand, to get his attention. His palm was sweaty and his brow had a light sheen of perspiration. "They don't just want your blood," she whispered. "They want you to watch as they slaughter everyone."

His nostrils flared and he let out a breath. "Not if I can help it. It will be their blood on the ground before this is over."

Mistress Helda collapsed into a heap a few feet from her. "Please, don't harm us. We are just farmers, mothers, widows, children—"

Then the slap Della knew was coming…and the man from the vision, looking exactly how she'd seen him, his fur vest covered with dried mud, his face streaked with sweat and grime.

"You are hiding a sorcerer. Bring him here before me."

She fully expected the elders to call him out but to their credit they remained silent. Instead, Merlin stepped forward on his own accord, letting go of her hand. She hadn't realized she was still holding on and now it was all she could do not to call out to him to stop.

The events were unfolding fast and she wasn't sure what to do now. Merlin would attack soon, that she knew and then—

"I am the man you're looking for," he said, his voice unwavering. "Whatever issue it is you have is with me alone, not these people."

The leader's eyes squinted as he assessed him. He clearly didn't believe him; Merlin was unassuming and Della figured the man had envisioned someone else.

"Theabel, Sigard," the man said, addressing the soldiers. Two men came from behind and Della's heart stopped.

She reached out for Ealhwyn. "Those two attacked me yesterday. Merlin showed them mercy…."

Ealhwyn squeezed her hand in reply.

The leader continued. "Is this the man you saw in the woods yesterday?"

"Yes Randel, sir," the taller one said. "But there's another."

The leader—Randel—smiled and Della's breath caught. Ealhwyn's grip tightened. She had not foreseen this.

Randel turned back to the crowd. "It appears there's another sorcerer among you, according to my friends here."

Della felt confusion sweep the crowd. They all knew already who the mysterious sorcerer was—but they also knew she was the one out in the woods with Merlin.

Ealhwyn had been right: nothing would ever be the same from this day forth. Her secret would be known, but would it save the village from destruction?

She let go of her aunt's hand and walked up to stand next to Merlin. A gasp went through the crowd collectively. He looked down at her, sadness in his eyes. "I'm guessing you didn't see this coming," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "No. I didn't." Her years of hiding her true nature, gone in an instant.

Voices of the villagers called out behind her.

"Della?"

"Is it true? Are they lying?"

"It can't be!" She heard Edward's voice call out. "She's no witch!"

Many voices called out similar things.

"Quiet!" Randal's voice roared out among the din. "Theabul, is this the girl then that lit your companion's arm on fire and sent you airborne with a single cry?"

Theabul's eyes darkened in recognition and she couldn't mistake the look of vengeance. "I would recognize her anywhere."

Anger mixed with fear overcame her and the words came tumbling out. "Let your friends' blood be on your own head! If you had left me alone he would still be alive, you disgusting brute!"

Theabul strode forth, ready to attack, but Randel put out a hand to stop him. He turned towards her. "You've quite the sharp tongue, little woman. But not for long." He gestured to a few men behind them. "Restrain them."

The men made their way only a half-step forward. Merlin let them no closer. She watched his eyes glow gold as he pushed his hand forward towards the men. They were airborne in a moment, one landing painfully on top of an empty wheelbarrow and the others knocked out by the sheer force.

Everything played out so fast; she had barely a chance to think before the next events occurred. In a flash, Merlin was casting another spell.

" _Shieldan!"_

An intangible shield formed around the group of villagers huddled in the center. Randel roared in indignation as chaos ensued. In another instant, as Merlin held the shield with his left hand, his eyes looked towards the sky and as he extended his right hand, dark clouds began to form and swirl above them. She knew what was coming next and she stayed still behind him.

Evidently Randel did as well. "Kill him before he calls down the lightning!"

A strong instinct rose within her. _Protect him_. He wouldn't be able to split himself three ways. She felt the power growing deep within her chest as she instinctively called forth the only bit of elemental magic she knew: fire. It traveled through her, warming her arms as she felt it coalesce at the tips of her fingers, begging to be called forth.

" _Cume fyrbryne."_ She directed the spell towards the six or seven men charging towards them. A line of fire appeared in front of where she was standing and raced towards the men. They had little time to react as it trailed up their legs like snakes and lit their clothes on fire. Screams of agony rent the air as some collapsed to the ground and others ran in attempt to quell the flames consuming them.

Della collapsed to her knees, shaking from the sheer amount of magic she used. Never had she cast such a strong spell and it left her momentarily light headed.

The spell had given Merlin the time he needed to summon the lightning. The sky above them was black now and the dozens of men surrounding the villagers looked up in alarm.

The lightning spilled forth in a blinding, searing light. Another aspect of her vision played before her eyes and half the Saxons were thrown from their feet. Her attackers from the previous day were lifeless on the ground, their eyes frozen in fear toward the sky.

Somehow though, Randel survived. He was thrown back, but managed to avoid the full blast of the lightning strike. He stumbled forth on unsteady legs, his eyes full of murderous fury. Most of his men were paralyzed or killed from the lightning.

"Kill them all!" he bellowed in rage. "Every last person in this forsaken village!"

Merlin still maintained the shield, but the people's fear was too great. Many started running out from the shield's protection. "No! Don't run!" He yelled. He turned to Della. "I can't save them if they run!"

"Stop!" Della called out. "Stay where you are!"

But no one heard her as they ran, the remaining Saxons pursuing them, swords drawn and arrows released.

Merlin dispelled the shield and aimed his attention on Randel charging for him, weaponless from the lightning strike. _He's too close!_ Della thought. The robust man collided with Merlin, tackling him to the ground before she could think of a spell.

Randel punched him once in the face. A deep yell came from Merlin and its reverberation knocked her to her knees as Randel was sent crashing into the outer wall of a nearby house.

So much was happening around her, she wasn't sure what to do. Then she remembered her aunt. Where had she run to? _I have to find her!_

Della stood up and ran through the ensuing chaos, trying not to look at the casualties surrounding her. A body suddenly fell next to her and she let out a startled cry. It was Oswin, the village leader. An arrow was stuck through his chest and from the look of it, pierced his heart directly.

People were running, falling, desperately fighting back in the last throes of death. She continued to run, searching for Ealhwyn. She came across little Melita, her blonde hair matted with blood. Tears clouded her sight as she thought about how the little one's life was cut violently short. She saw Nerienda then, in front of the door to her house, face down in the mud, blood from a sword wound in her back. Only a mother for a matter of hours before death claimed her.

She may not have struck the death blows but she felt as if each death were indirectly caused by her hand. _I should've been the one to warn them._ The weight of the guilt she felt for each life lost nearly brought her to her knees. For the briefest of moments, she wished for a Saxon to come upon her and cut her down.

But she knew that wouldn't happen as things had yet to come that she had foreseen. Death wouldn't claim her this day, even if part of her wished for it.

Then she spotted Ealhwyn across the alley, facing a Saxon. " _Ástríce!"_ Ealhwyn called out the ever familiar stunning spell and her attacker was sent airborne, landing on his neck and killing him instantly.

"Aunt!" Della yelled. Ealhwyn turned and smiled in relief. Immediately, shame washed over Della for selfishly wanting death and leaving her aunt behind. She ran towards her, reassured to see her safe and pushing aside her previous thoughts.

Suddenly, a man carrying a crossbow appeared from around the corner. "Cursed sorceress!" He took aim at Ealhwyn and released the arrow.

She couldn't stop what was coming, couldn't redirect the arrow's path heading towards Ealhwyn. It struck her in the lower abdomen and she gasped in pain and collapsed to the ground.

"NO!" Della screamed. Anger raced through her veins like rivers of fire. The call of the element burned within her, and her anguish manifested as a fireball within her hands. "Forbænan!"

The Saxon's eyes went wide in fear. He dropped his crossbow and turned to run but not before Della directed the fireball at him. It hit him square in the back and knocked him to the ground, leaving a searing, fiery hole just below his rib cage, exposing bone to air.

Della turned away from dead Saxon and kneeled in the mud next to Ealhwyn. Her eyes weren't clouded over with the shroud of death yet, but their light has certainly begun to fade.

"Please, stay with me!" She tried to keep her voice steady. "This…this wasn't supposed to happen. You aren't supposed to die here!" She cradled her aunt's head.

Ealhwyn smiled weakly. "It was…to be," she coughed "You…Emrys. Always meant…." Della had no idea what she meant. She did not want to confront the possibility that Ealhwyn had known about this day for years.

Ealhwyn grabbed her hand and weakly squeezes it. "Be strong my girl. For you. For him. Be…" she coughed and gasped and the final bit of light in her eyes faded away.

"No, come back, aunt! Don't leave me!" The grief was too much.

She had always known this would all end with a scream from the depths of her soul.

* * *

Merlin watched as everything unraveled before him. The chaos of Della's vision had indeed come to pass, despite everything.

He needed to focus now on dispatching the remaining Saxons before the entire village was destroyed.

There weren't many left. Most had been killed from the lightning and from Della's surprisingly strong fire spell. No one faced him now; Randel was motionless on the ground and the other men had gone for the defenseless villagers.

 _I'll find them myself._

And that he did. The remaining dozen or so were chasing the remaining villagers into the woods. He hadn't the strength left to conjure another lightning spell. However, the air was full of fire and ember from some of the burning cottages.

He used an old spell, one he had used many years ago when fighting the Afanc in the crypts below Camelot. " _Lyft forhienan wiðere."_ The wind picked up and he directed it towards the fire. It coalesced into a fiery whirlwind which he now aimed at the soldiers.

A few had seen it coming and went running off into the woods, dropping their weapons behind them. But the fire descended on the remaining soldiers, consuming them in entirety. The smell of burning human flesh was immediate and it turned Merlin's stomach. Part of him felt immense sadness of such a loss of life. How many of these men had families? Yet they had come here and killed without a thought.

The words of Kilgharrah came back to the forefront of his mind. _"Your determination to see goodness in people will be your undoing."_ That had indeed been the case, too many times, even recently. He had been merciful to Della's two remaining attackers and they had led this army straight to the villagers—and likely irreparably damaged Della's reputation and future in Havenswood.

He couldn't risk being merciful this time.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soul wrenching cry. It shook the air around him. His heart stopped. He recognized that yell. _Della._

Immediately, he found himself running towards the call. His surroundings blurred together around him; he was focused on one thing and one thing only: heading towards her.

He turned a corner around one of the villagers' houses and came to a halt. His stomach dropped. _No!_

There was Della, sitting in the mud, cradling her aunt, with an obviously fatal arrow in her abdomen. Ealhwyn's eyes were dark, turned up to the sky, her soul having departed for the afterlife.

Della's head bent towards her aunt's. Her shoulders were shaking with the weight of her heart wrenching sobs. He choked back his own cry. He may not have known Ealhwyn more than a day, but the loss stabbed at him as great as any he'd experienced.

In his own sorrow, he didn't notice the danger heading for him. The _thunk_ of an arrow released from a crossbow broke through his grief. He turned towards the sound. The arrow was inches from his head, but he managed to barely redirect it with a flash of instinctual magic.

Not soon enough though. The sharpened iron arrowhead dug out the flesh along his cheekbone below his right eye. He cried out in pain and lost his balance as he fell on his left arm in a heap of mud, weakened from the sheer amount of magic he'd used in such a short time.

His attacker was none other than the Saxon leader. He had assumed the force of his sonic yell and the forceful crash into the side of a house would've prevented him from rising. Randel was definitely wounded greatly, and he watched the man drag his left leg behind him and wince with each step.

"I underestimated you," Randel said, his breathing that of an injured man. "But even you in your great power can be thrown down in the mud like the swine you are." He tossed the crossbow aside and drew his sword, which he'd apparently found again after the initial attack. "You and your little witch will see the fires of hell this day!"

Merlin tried to summon the strength for another stunning spell. The magic tried to pool together around him as he aimed it at Randel's charging form. However, it only pushed him back a few feet in the mire. Randel managed to continue forward a moment later.

He lifted his sword, ready for the attack. But, before the sword could come down, Merlin heard a high pitched battle cry. Randel started to turn his head toward the sound but the attacker sliced him through first, with the ever familiar crunch of a sword slicing through flesh. A sword tip protruded from the front of Randel's stomach, and his eyes bulged out in shock as he dropped his sword, blood pouring from his mouth and his stomach.

"You're wrong," Della's voice had an edge he'd never heard before. "Enjoy hell on my behalf." She yanked the sword out and Randel gurgled and fell forward as Merlin pushed himself out of the way of the man's falling form.

It took a moment for him to process what happened. He stared at Della, his mouth agape. The righteous fury in her eyes faded away as she dropped the sword next to Randel's lifeless body. Now she looked empty and lost, perhaps comprehending all that had occurred in the last few moments.

"Della?" he called to her. Suddenly she was at his side, kneeling in the mud next to him, her eyes on the gash on his face. The gash he only just remembered was there—hurting like hell.

"You're bleeding," she said, matter-of -factly. Her healer instinct took over and he watched as she quickly ripped a strip from the hem of her blood stained dress and folded the strip in half to make it thicker. "Here." She brought the cloth up to his face and applied pressure the wound.

Merlin winced. He watched as Della closed her eyes and recognized another magic user's attempt to conjure up energy for a spell. " _þurhhæle licsare."_

Slowly, the sting of his wound stopped. "Thank you," he said. "For this. And for…" he gestured towards Randel. "I couldn't seem to bring up enough magic to deal with him myself."

She nodded blankly, her eyes now welling up with unshed tears. "I did what needed done," she said. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Your wound isn't healed completely. I didn't have enough energy left after everything." She swallowed and he saw her hands were shaking.

"I couldn't save her," she continued. "I couldn't save Ealhwyn." She buried her head in her hands. "So much death…I saw it and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't…." She started sobbing, all the emotion coming out in a torrent of tears.

Without a thought, he took her in his arms and embraced her, lending as much comfort as he could. He said nothing, but found himself crying for her and the cruelty of the day's events.

All the magic in the world couldn't heal a broken heart.

* * *

 _Chapter song: The Bond of Sacrifice, from Merlin series 4 soundtrack_

* * *

 _ **A/N: Special thanks again to my beta reader, Requiem17, who really helped me polish this chapter and make it readable. And a huge thanks to all my followers for continuing to read my story. Thank you!**_


	6. The Path Ahead

She didn't know how long she cried. The surroundings bled away, just as she felt her will to live leave her with each tear that fell. Yet she took what little comfort she could just being held by Merlin.

The grim reality soon broke through to her though, realizing all that occurred around them. The villagers were returning to their broken town, their grief stricken cries echoing around them. The smell of fire grew stronger and she knew, if they didn't do something soon, many of the houses would burn and the remaining survivors would also be homeless.

He must have sensed it as well for they pulled out of their embrace nearly at the same time. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked at her with a sorrow that threatened to break her heart again.

"Fire," she managed to choke out. "The houses—"

He nodded once and helped her up from the mud. "I'll do what I can." He wavered on his legs as he stood up and she knew he was weak from all of his magic use already.

"Is there a way I can help?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Just tend to Ealhwyn. I'll be back to help you." He squeezed her arm gently in reassurance and set off in the direction of the burning houses.

Della turned back to see her aunt's body lying in the mud. Her vision clouded with tears as she walked over and bent down next to her again. Ealhwyn looked to the sky in her eternal sleep with peace in her features. For a brief moment, Della envied Ealhwyn's departure for the afterlife. She berated herself for such thoughts and gently shut her eyes, choking back another sob.

The deadly arrow still protruded from Ealhwyn's stomach. " _Álúcan."_ She extracted the arrow magically in a similar way as she had yesterday with her own wound. She tossed it aside angrily, fresh tears falling onto Ealhwyn's bloodied apron.

"It's all my fault," Della said. "You're dead because of me."

"You're damn well right it's your fault!"

She turned around in the mud to see Melita's mother, Ailis standing there—and holding her dead daughter in her arms. "You brought these attackers to us. You and that sorcerer. All of this blood is on _your_ hands!"

Della had no words. How could she argue with this grief stricken mother?

"Ailis, I am sorry. I—"

"Sorry doesn't bring my daughter back!" Ailis yelled, drawing her daughter's lifeless body closer to her. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face. "It should've been you instead!"

"Now that is enough!" The voice of Mistress Helda called from behind her. Della turned and saw the older woman hobbling towards them, her cheek bruised from where she'd been struck. "Della and the sorcerer did not cause your child to die. If anything, they saved the village from being completely destroyed."

Ailis looked at her in disbelief for a moment. "Yet my child is still dead!"

Mistress Helda nodded. "As are others. But is that not our own doing? We were protected by the shield spell, yet we ran. But he managed to save the majority anyway."

"So her death is my fault?" Ailis' voice grew higher and more frantic.

"I am not saying that," Mistress Helda said. She went up to Ailis and put her hand on young Melita's forehead, brushing the loose strands away. "Put the blame of her death on the Saxon who killed her. Not yourself and not those who tried to save you. Grieve her loss and grieve the loss of the others who were at the mercy of fate today." She looked down at Della, who sat speechless. " I am sure Della here is pained enough for a lifetime. Remember, she has lost someone as well."

Ailis said no more, but bent her head towards her daughter's. Sobs wracked her body and Della looked away. The events of this day would be forever seared in her memory.

"Come now, Ailis. Let's find your husband. I saw him on the south side of town looking for you." She continued to cry but began walking towards the direction Helda mentioned. Helda looked back once at Della, unshed tears in her eyes.

Della nodded in response. She was grateful for Helda's defense, although she knew it was likely not the last time accusations would be hurled towards her. _I can't think about that now._ Now, she needed to think about Ealhwyn and her burial. Merlin hadn't returned yet and she knew she wasn't strong enough to carry her back to their cottage.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, letting the events of the past few days settle upon her. Her visions of the battle at Camlann, Arthur's death, and this attack concerned her. She thought back on what Ealhwyn had said the day before.

 _I believe today marked the start of your destinies merging._

Her last words too had haunted her. She'd said her and Emrys were always meant to meet. It was as if she'd known this day was to come to pass. But how? Ealhwyn had never had visions—at least none that she'd known of. It left her unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that more was in store for her—more than she could even fathom—or want.

"Della?" She tensed, hearing her name called, ready for another verbal attack. It was Edward, one of the village elders. Instead of berating her like she expected, he came up and embraced her, taking her by surprise. "Thank the gods you are alive!" He pulled back and she saw his left eye was swollen. A crude bit of torn and blood soaked cloth was tied around his thigh. His gaze turned to Ealhwyn and she saw grief shadow his face. "Oh, Ealhwyn…" he shut his eyes and shook his head. "We should've listened to him. He was right and we chose not to heed his warning."

Della swallowed, trying to find the words. "Would you have listened if the warning came from me?"

Edward's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "The vision wasn't Merlin's. It was mine." She paused when she saw his mouth open in shock but continued on. "He pretended it was his in order to protect my secret. Not that it matters now."

Edward said nothing for a moment. He looked to be finding his own words. "How long have you been hiding this?"

"Ever since I came to Havenswood."

He let out a breath and nodded. "And the sorcerer? His name is Merlin? He told us it was Will."

She hadn't known that. "Yes." He nodded again and she sensed a wall had gone up between them.

"I'm deeply sorry," she said. "All of this…I feel like it is my fault."

He shook his head. "No, it isn't. If anything, I am to blame for this. I—and the rest of the elders—we shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the warning. And…and it was a good deed on Merlin's part to claim the vision as his. If you had told us the vision was yours, I doubt we would've listened even then." He sighed. "Much has been lost this day." The undercurrents of what was unspoken were thick. It wasn't just loss of life and property, but loss of trust between her and the villagers as well.

Della remained silent, unsure of what to say next. Edward continued. "Let me help you take Ealhwyn back to your cottage so you can prepare her."

"Thank you, Edward," she said, her voice catching as he gently picked up Ealhwyn's body. He said nothing more but started heading back towards their cottage.

She stood up slowly, the mud caking itself to the front of her dress and shoes. The sky had darkened significantly. Rain would arrive soon. A fitting mood for such a day.

She began to make her way back, dreading what came next. The bodies of the dead Saxons lined the streets, mixed in with those villagers who had died. She didn't miss the scathing looks she received as she walked past her neighbors and friends. The same anger and distrust that she'd seen in Ailis' eyes.

Raised voices drew her attention in the direction where Merlin had headed. Edward heard it too. "I think your friend may be in some trouble."

She looked back towards the sounds, the shouts increasing. She knew Merlin could handle it on his own, but she wouldn't leave him to be the center of all the misplaced anger and grief. "I need to go," she said to Edward as she gestured towards the sound. "Can you—"

"You don't have to ask," Edward said. "I'll head over there when I can."

"Thank you." He nodded in response. Della turned and ran as fast as her feet could carry her in the muddy streets, kicking up clods as her feet dug into the soft ground.

She made it to where Merlin was. The fires were out, the only evidence that of ash and soot floating in the air. He stood there, surrounded by an ever increasing group of villagers. He looked so tired and worn.

"My only son is dead because of you!" A voice called.

"The Saxons came here because of your magic. You brought this upon us!"

But Della heard others trying to counteract the wave of insults. "If not for him, we may all be dead!"

"He killed most of the Saxons for us. Without his magic, we would all be lying in our blood."

"He prevented the fire from spreading throughout the rest of the village," another said.

"But he _brought_ them here!" Another called. "They were looking for a sorcerer."

"See what your all powerful magic does? It just brings discord." It was Algar, another village elder. She pushed through the crowd as Algar continued his diatribe, his deep voice silencing the others. "There are women and children who have died this day because of what you brought upon us! Every person's blood who died here today is upon your head."

Merlin shut his eyes and Della knew that comment wounded him more than any others. "I warned you about the Saxons last night, I _told_ you to get the people to safety—"

"It doesn't matter if you tried to warn us—they came here looking for you!" Algar said. He was quick to push that little tidbit of information aside should the blame be focused elsewhere. "You should've gone out to meet them on your own rather than cowering here."

Merlin's jaw set and he cocked his head and walked towards Algar. Whatever was coming next wouldn't be good.

"Excuse me, but I seem to remember, oh I don't know, dispatching most of these Saxons for you, while _you_ ran off and hid in the woods. So who was really "cowering"?"

Algar rushed at Merlin and grabbed him by his jacket collar. "Why you—"

"Stop!" Della yelled. They both looked over at her and she pushed her way between Algar and Merlin, breaking Algar's hold. She maintained her position in front of Merlin. The last thing he needed right now was to be physically attacked by someone he saved. "I hold all the blame for this. I should've been the one to tell you about the Saxons because it was _my_ vision. Not his."

A murmur went throughout the crowd. Algar squinted at her in shocked disbelief. "You're a sorceress _and_ a seer?" He shook his head in disgust. "How many other things have you seen and neglected to tell us?"

"Would you have believed her?" Merlin said. "Or would you have her arrested for witchcraft?"

Algar said nothing but clenched his jaw and Della knew the answer.

Merlin continued. "Hate and distrust us as you will, but magic saved your lives today. Don't forget that."

"He's right." Edward called from behind the crowd. Everyone turned and focused on him and Della saw as Merlin had a look of surprise. "Magic did save us today. If he had left last night like I and the rest of the village elders wanted, we would all likely be dead."

"Edward, you don't know what—" Algar tried to counter argue but Edward spoke over him as he continued to address the now quiet crowd.

"Merlin did try to warn us last night, but we did not believe him. We accused him of an elaborate plan to harm us and our fear and distrust of sorcery prevented us from rightfully warning everyone. I know I will forever regret it. So, please, do not blame the man who did what he could to save us despite our continued arrogance and prejudice."

No one else spoke. Edward continued. "We have lost much today. We need to focus on coming together in our grief rather than tearing each other apart trying to find blame. We have endured other tragedies. We will endure this one."

The crowd broke up then but Della did not miss the glances of many who looked at her as if she were a traitor. Edward came up to both of them. "I fear I am in the minority among our neighbors."

"Thank you for trying to defend us," Merlin said.

"Yes, thank you," Della echoed. She felt hollow inside. The same people who had been her friends, the same folks she helped tend to when ill, helped assist in childbirth, they looked at her now as if she were nothing.

Della let out a shaky breath. Only one thing was certain now: She wouldn't be able to stay here any longer. Ealhwyn had been right—much had changed from this day forward. Now she needed to forge a new path ahead, into an unknown fate.

* * *

Merlin walked in silence beside Della back to her cottage. She looked at the ground the entire way as he watched her avoid eye contact with her neighbors. He alternated between anger at their prejudice and sadness for their inability to look past it. Hadn't she been a well respected member of the community? Hadn't she done all she could in the years she'd lived here to heal them, take care of them, keep them safe?

Yet all that was gone because of who she really was.

He realized then just how ingrained the prejudice and fear likely was throughout the kingdom. If Arthur had lived, and had repealed the ban on magic, it would not have been accepted overnight like he once naively assumed. Too many years of Uther's influence combined with the evil the High Priestesses Nimueh, Morgause, and Morgana wrought upon the people had permanently entrenched in the people's conscience that magic was only used for death and destruction. This experience had shown him that much.

Could they ever be convinced otherwise?

They returned to the cottage and found Ealhwyn laid out on the table, her hands crossed over her chest. Della walked over to her aunt and grabbed her hand. "You weren't supposed to die." She whispered. She wiped away a tear as quickly as it fell.

Merlin put a hand on her shoulder. "I will not leave you here to face this alone."

"I wouldn't fault you walking out that door and never looking back." She moved away from him as she went to gather supplies to prepare Ealhwyn for burial.

"You'll have to physically kick me out and bar the door if you want me gone," he said as he took the bowls and rags from her hands. "Now, will you let me help you?"

She stood there motionless, her brown eyes welling up. Then, before he knew it, she reached up, kissed him on the cheek and threw her arms around his neck in a sudden embrace. He nearly dropped what was in his hands in surprise but managed to return the hug, wrapping his arm around her. "Thank you. For everything," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm more grateful than words could ever convey."

 _Thank you._ He rarely heard that over the years. He choked back his own emotion welling up within him. "A simple thanks is more than enough," he said. She truly didn't understand just how much being acknowledged meant to him. He never sought recognition all these years, but just one show of gratitude really made him feel the sacrifices were worth it.

She pulled out of the embrace, wiping more tears on her cheeks. A part of him had wished she'd lingered in his arms a little longer, but he pushed the burgeoning feeling aside. That was the last thing that should be crossing his mind now.

They worked in silence, the only sound that of the rain cascading down the rush-covered roof. Merlin let Della do most of the preparations. He watched as she gently combed Ealhwyn's hair, as she carefully made sure to wash out the now dried clumps of mud. Throughout the entire process, Della kept a blank face, concentrating on the job at hand. At one point, he watched as Della paused and rubbed her injured side and he inwardly berated himself for forgetting about her injury.

"You haven't changed your wrap yet, have you?" He asked.

"I don't need it anymore," she said, focused on scrubbing Ealhwyn's nails free of dirt. "It's just sore now."

"You should at least take those off; the paste must be dried and uncomfortable by now."

"I will when she's ready," she said.

"Ealhwyn would want you to—"

"This comes first," Della said firmly. She hadn't looked up from her task.

He sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. If Della was one thing, she was single mindedly focused. _Another recognizable trait._ He thought.

She finished cleaning the dirt from Ealhwyn's hands she went to the cupboard in the corner and pulled out a long folded sheet as well as some long ribbons.

"Can you…can you help me wrap her in the shroud?" she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "I'm not strong enough to—"

"You don't need to ask," he said.

Della nodded and opened the cloth and spread it on Ealhwyn's bed. Merlin then gently lifted Ealhwyn's body at her shoulders while Della supported her feet as they carried her the few feet from the table to the bed. He helped her tie the shroud around Ealhwyn shut and Della put sprigs of rosemary within the folds of the shroud.

Seeing Ealhwyn's lifeless body there, wrapped in a simple linen shroud, when she had been alive and talking with them just hours earlier weighed upon his heart heavier than he'd expected. He was suddenly reminded of his solitary funeral for Arthur just four days prior, of his lifeless body sent away in the boat, covered in a mantle of fog.

The sorrow was just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. But he couldn't, _wouldn't_ , dwell on that now.

"I wish I knew what to do," Della said, diverting his thoughts. "I don't think I can stay in Havenswood much longer."

She was right. The people would always associate her with this tragedy and while some might eventually grow to accept her again, she would likely be isolated for some time. And now that she had lost her only family, she faced the burden of her visions alone.

He didn't want that for her. And he had a strong inclination that he'd been led here to meet her and maybe, she was a part of what was yet to come. So much had occurred in the time he'd known her that it was almost unquestionable.

"Maybe your true destiny is just beginning," he said, voicing the thought out loud.

"Ealhwyn said something similar to me yesterday," she said. "She told me she believed our meeting marked the start of our destinies merging."

All signs now were pointing to the obvious, though he was just as hesitant to accept this new path. But he couldn't ignore it.

"Well then," he said, "perhaps you should come with me to Ealdor."

"I don't know. You barely know me."

"I know you better than others I've known for years," he said. "And I have a feeling you know more about me than you've let on."

She looked away and he knew he was right on that account. He continued. "There's nothing left for you here. Ealhwyn wouldn't want you to face whatever's next on your own."

She remained silent for a moment and stood up and placed a hand on Ealhwyn's chest. Finally, he caught a barely perceptible nod. "All right," she said. "I'll come with you."

She was at the precipice of the unknown and he knew all too well from experience how nerve wracking that could be. He'd had guidance along the way from Gaius, and occasionally from Kilgharrah, and she would need that guidance now.

His dark mood slipped away as he considered the possibility of a brighter future. And he knew they both needed something to believe in if they were to continue forward.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know it was another sad chapter, but I tried to end it with a little hope for the future! Destiny isn't done with either of them yet. :) I promise things will start looking better for both of them come the next few chapters!


	7. Hope Renewed

_Chapter theme songs: Soulbound by Taylor Davis; Merlin Lost (from Season 1 OST)_

* * *

Ealhwyn's burial took place in the mid afternoon along with fifteen other villagers. A long trench was made, with each body carefully placed in its final resting place. Memories of another mass tragedy flashed in Della's mind as she thought about the Dorocha attack nearly five years prior. Even more had died then and the now long grass covered mound served as a somber reminder. Now another mound would join it.

The ceremony was brief, with Edward having volunteered to say a few words. She wasn't sure what was said, so deep in thought she was, thinking about all that had transpired. The grief was deep and it felt as if her heart had been carved out. She didn't want to dwell on it any longer, knowing that it would be all too easy to slip into a darkness that would consume her. She focused on the changes coming—packing up and leaving the only place she'd known as home the last decade.

 _At least I know where I'm going._ When Merlin had asked her to join him on his journey back to Ealdor, an immense sense of relief washed over her. She hid it carefully—she didn't want to act too eager, seeing as she was still nearly a virtual stranger to him. But she had nearly cried tears of relief knowing there was the promise of new life somewhere. It would be the second time she'd had to start over, and hopefully it would be the last.

Della was brought out of her thoughts by a slight touch on the back of her hand. Merlin gently brushed the back of his fingers against hers. _"You aren't alone."_ She heard him communicate within her mind. It was the smallest of gestures and she nearly lost the composure she'd been striving to maintain.

" _I know."_ She responded back. She grabbed his hand completely, not caring if anyone else saw what occurred. But as much as she wished to keep her hand within his comforting one, she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable for any reason—he didn't need to concern himself with the possibility of his traveling companion developing feelings for him. She reluctantly let go a moment later.

Shortly after, the ceremony ended. Most of the village men remained to cover the grave. The remaining villagers avoided approaching her and Merlin, heading back to their homes without a word to either of them. Most avoided eye contact but a few looked at her as if she were a stranger-or worse, as if she betrayed them.

The sooner tomorrow came, the better.

Della started back towards the cottage but Merlin held back for a moment.. "I'm going to see if they'll let me help," he said. "I still can't help but feel responsible..." he trailed off and shook his head, unable to finish the thought.

Della nodded. "I'm sure they will appreciate it." She knew it was his own way of dealing with the grief and perhaps atoning for whatever he blamed himself for. She wished he wouldn't think that any of this was his fault, but she knew part of him would always feel to blame. It was the kind of person he was—the kind to always take responsibility for actions that weren't entirely his to shoulder.

He turned towards the growing group of men and hesitantly approached them. She waited, hoping it wouldn't turn into a shouting match like it had earlier when he'd put out the fires. Instead, she watched as Edward clamped a hand on his shoulder in solidarity and the other men, though wary, said nothing. At the very least, they would be grateful for another pair of hands to help in a morose duty.

She returned home in moments and stared at everything in the small cottage. Where to even begin? It would be so easy to just leave it all and only pack what was needed, but the thought of abandoning half a lifetime's worth of memories pained her. There wasn't room to bring much and she needed to find someone who might want the cottage itself. Perhaps Mistress Helda would want some of the tinctures and other items. The thought of approaching anyone else today made her beyond anxious.

It soon became overwhelming and being in the cottage alone was much more unnerving than she anticipated. Before she could talk herself out of it, she left for Mistress Helda's.

Helda's cottage was a few down from their own. The rain throughout the day had made it trickier to move and the metallic smell of blood still hung in the air. The dead Saxons had already been moved to another area where they would be burned on a massive pyre. She would not miss the smell that came with the burning of that many bodies; but gods willing, she would be gone by then. It was unlikely the villagers would suffer her and Merlin's presence much past sunrise.

Della dispelled her unpleasant thoughts as she knocked on Mistress Helda's door. It opened and the older woman smiled sadly and brought Della into an embrace. She gratefully returned the hug.

Helda pulled back, her eyes shining with tears. "Come inside, dear girl, come inside." Della followed her into the cottage. A light smell of cabbage pottage hung in the air and Della's stomach churned. She hadn't eaten anything all day, nor had Merlin for that matter. "Havenswood has lost much this day with the death of Ealhwyn. Such a warm and giving soul. And I fear you will have quite a reputation to live up to with her healing prowess, though I know you are just as talented."

Della took a breath and began. "After what happened today, I'm afraid I can't stay in Havenswood any longer. I'm leaving tomorrow along with Merlin." Sorrow deepened the creases on Helda's face. She nodded slowly and remained silent—not a common occurrence with her. Della continued. "I believe the people would always associate me with this tragedy and now that they know my secret, it's doubtful they would trust me enough to let me help them, at least for some time. Their fear of magic is too great. And I don't blame them for that."

"I understand," Helda said, nodding slowly. "There was a time in my life when magic had been revered and those with it were held in high esteem. I'm afraid the Purge and the years following have changed that forever."

Della nodded, though part of her still hoped that would change, even if it took years for it to happen. "I can only pack so much to take with me. I was wondering if you could use anything I leave behind and if you knew anyone else who would find our items useful."

"Of course, my dear," Helda said. "I will make sure nothing goes to waste. And don't you worry—I will look after the villagers and whatever they may need. I know of a few young women that I might be able to train up as healers." She reached over and rubbed her arm. "Though I'm afraid none will compare to you and Ealhwyn."

"Thank you," Della said. She reached out and hugged Helda again, thankful for one of the few friends she had left. "I hope you live a long and happy life."

"And the same for you," Helda said. She smiled and a hint of mischief gleamed in her eye. "Though I suspect you will with that handsome sorcerer of yours by your side."

Della's face burned. "Mistress Helda! That's…that's not—" She shook her head. "I've only known him a day. There's nothing—"

"Oh huff and puff, you can't hide things from these old eyes. I saw how you jumped to his defense today, during the attack, and when Algar tried to harm him. And don't think I didn't see you holding his hand at the burial earlier."

"I was only protecting him from harm, and as for the burial, that was for support—"

Helda waved her words away as if they were a pesky fly. "You keep telling yourself that, dear girl. Tragedy often has a way of bringing people closer together much faster than you think."

Della shook her head and sighed. Well, Helda was still Helda in this regard. The conversation brought her a small light of hope on such a dark day. But she wouldn't dwell on the insinuations now—even if part of her heart wanted to.

With her mind at ease, she left Helda's cottage, wiping the stray tear that fell. She would miss the kindly old woman and her mischevious meddling ways.

On her way back, she looked over at the group of village men and Merlin working hard to cover the graves. He would be exhausted when he returned and likely in want of a bath. He'd done so much the past two days, she wanted to make sure he had a few moments to actually rest before their journey began. She wasn't sure how far Ealdor was from here, but knew it was in Lot's kingdom. It would take at least a full day to travel there, if not longer. The furthest she'd ever traveled had been when she left Camelot all those years ago and came here, and that had only been a half day's journey.

Yes, she had quite a bit of work ahead of her. But at least it would distract her from the reality behind her leaving, and prevent the grief from overwhelming her.

She returned home, hesitant to open the door and face the emptiness inside. She wasn't sure how long Merlin would be gone and she certainly didn't wish to continue walking around the village just to avoid the silence. She couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. With a steadying breath, she opened the door and entered, focusing as best she could on the tasks at hand.

She found Ealhwyn's travel pack and medicine bag and packed them with the essentials: herbs, tinctures, and a few extra supplies for bandages. She got to work preparing a bath for Merlin when he returned, setting up the tub in the corner where she did laundry in the winter and hanging a long sheet over their laundry line. She prepped the ingredients for supper, chopping the few early spring vegetables they had for a stew. She wished she could've bartered for a chicken to cook, but the thought of asking any villagers for that today was off putting.

Vegetable stew it was then.

The daylight was waning as she put the stew pot over the fire and stirred. Quickly the smell of the cooking vegetables filled the cottage. It was ever so tempting to eat as she stirred, but she decided against it. She'd wait for Merlin to return.

She was so engrossed in stirring that the knock at the door startled her. Della got up and greeted Merlin with the smallest of smiles. "Come in," she said.

He looked beyond fatigued and in desperate need of that bath. Bits of mud were scattered throughout his dark hair and his hands were completely black from an afternoon of shoveling. His clothes were caked in grime as well and she was glad she had the foresight to prep the bath beforehand for him.

He nodded and smiled in return. "Whatever you're making smells amazing," he said. "Then again, I'd eat nearly anything right now."

"It'll be ready in a little while," she said. He walked in and sat heavily on the bench at the table. She followed his gaze to the corner where she'd set up the tub.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to wash up after…" she trailed off. "The water's already in the tub, but not warmed up. I didn't know when you'd be back and I figured I could use magic to heat it up when you returned. " She smiled sadly. "Ealhwyn and I did that often."

"Thank you," he said. "But I'm afraid I don't have an extra set of clothes."

"Oh, I already thought of that," Della said. She walked to the linen cupboard and pulled out a pile of clothes. "We made extra sets of clothes for anything unexpected. You just never know who will need them when you're the town healer." She placed them on the stool behind the makeshift curtain. "They may be a little loose on you but it's the only set of men's clothes we have."

"Loose or not, it'll be better than sitting in what I have on now," Merlin said.

"Good," she said. A small smile played on the corner of her lips as she walked to the small basin. She stood over it and extended her hand over the water. " _Hléowan,_ " she said. Steam quickly developed over the water's surface after her incantation. "If you need it warmer—"

"I can do that myself," he assured. "I used that spell on occasion in Camelot. When no one was within earshot of course."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," she said. "Anyway, I'll let you alone. Will the curtain suffice for privacy? It was the best I could do. If not, I can leave for a few minutes and come back." She felt her cheeks growing warm at the thought.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "Besides, I don't want you to burn that delicious stew you're working on just for modesty's sake."

"All right then," she said. "I'll just…over there," she said, turning her back to him and heading back to the stew pot—and tripping over the hem of her dress in the process. Thankfully she caught herself at the edge of the table.

 _You clumsy dolt._ Why was she acting so flustered? She wasn't a particularly clumsy person but now she acted as if she couldn't walk straight. _It's not like he's taking a bath right in front of me._ She immediately pushed that image from her head as she tried her best to calm the flush on her cheeks and neck that she knew had likely turned as red as her hair. She hoped he wasn't watching her too closely.

Unfortunately the slight chuckle coming from his direction assured her he had seen it all. She shut her eyes in embarrassment and focused on the stew pot in front of her.

No words were exchanged—thankfully—she needed to concentrate on something else. She tried her best to think about what else she needed to finish before leaving but her mind drew a blank. Instead, Helda's earlier comment popped up and raced through her mind like a stray mouse scurrying across the cottage floor. _Tragedy often has a way of bringing people closer together much faster than you think._

 _Stop it, you silly girl._ But the more she told herself to stop dwelling on such things, the more her mind did.

 _Strong arms embracing her, supporting her. The ever so slight brush of the back of his hand against hers._

"You look lost in thought."

Della nearly jumped from her seat at Merlin's voice. She must've been daydreaming longer than she realized. "Yes," she said, stirring the stew quickly to make sure it hadn't burned. "I was thinking about what else I need to do to get ready to leave. Still quite a bit."

He sat at the end of the bench closest to her. "Well, I can help you know. You don't have to do it all alone. What else is there?"

"Oh…um," she quickly scrambled to think of something. "I need to wash your clothes for starters," she said, finally examining him and noticing just how loose the extra set of clothes were on him. "You can't very well travel with your shirt and pants about to fall off."

"These aren't _that_ loose," he said. He stood up to show her. "Well, maybe just a little. But I can wash my own clothes. In fact I can do that right now."

"What?" Della said. "Supper's almost ready. You don't—"

He cocked his head at her and gave her a slightly mischievous grin. "You seem to underestimate my laundry skills. I was a servant for ten years, you know. Do you have a washing board and bat?"

She nodded. "In the corner against the cupboard."

With a slight jerk of his chin and golden flash in his eyes, the items were mid-air. With another flash, the makeshift sheet was pushed aside and his clothes were plopped into the tub with a soft splash. Her washing board and bat floated over towards the tub as if they were alive. Another moment later, and the items moved as if an invisible laundress stood there.

"Almost forgot the soap," Merlin said. Another _plop!_ And the soap was in the tub. All without Merlin having moved from where he was standing.

"How—when—when did you learn how to do that?" She didn't know why she was so surprised—the man could call down lightning from the sky and dispatch dozens of enemies at once—but somehow, she never imagined something as simple as this. And all without uttering a word!

"I could move objects before I could talk," he said. "At least according to my mother. It's second nature for me. If anything, it was hard not to do it. I had to train myself to be much more careful while in the castle. But I still managed to on occasion, especially on days when both Gaius and Arthur had me run ragged."

She shook her head in astonishment. "I could never move things like that. Then again, I'm not Emrys, the greatest sorcerer of our time." She smiled but his faded at the mention of his other name. Her comment broke his brief good humored countenance and she inwardly cursed herself for saying it.

"Seems supper is ready," she said, trying to break the pall that developed. She grabbed two wooden bowls and began scooping the stew. She made sure to fill Merlin's bowl to the brim and handed it to him carefully. "This tastes better with bread but I wasn't able to procure any today."

"I think this will be plenty," he said, a small grin returning. "Thank you." He sat down at the table.

She nodded and let out a small sigh of relief, hoping he'd forgotten her earlier comment.

After today—nay, after the last few days—the evening meal called for something stronger than water. She went to over to the Ealhwyn's medicine shelf and pulled a tall bottle of clear brown liquid from behind the tinctures and brought it back to the table. Merlin's eyebrows rose.

"That's definitely not water," Merlin said.

"It certainly isn't," Della said. "It's mead Ealhwyn bought on her last trip to the market a few weeks' back. We both preferred the taste of mead over ale, so she often made it a mission to trade for various kinds around Camelot. Would you like some?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Merlin said. "I'm not much of a drinker but today certainly warrants a cup. Or two."

She poured one for him and handed it across the table. "Here's hoping the days ahead are less troubled."

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

"Are you ready?" Merlin asked Della as she put the last few vials of some herbal tinctures in her medicine bag. Though it was just past dawn, the day was already overcast with darkening clouds. It would be another day of rain ahead.

She closed the flap and looked around the cottage. He saw her eyes scanning the shelves and the rest of the humble belongings, taking in the sight of her home for the last time. She took a breath and quickly brushed some stray tears away. "Ready as I'll ever be." She grabbed her cloak on the peg next to the door and tied it around her shoulders. "Let's go. If I stay a moment longer, I'm not sure I'll leave."

He opened the door to the cottage and she walked through it, refusing to take another look back. He shut it with a thud of finality. "All right then," he said. "Ealdor's a good full day and a half journey from here on foot, maybe two depending on the weather. If we get to the forest of Brechffa by day's end, we—"

He stopped as he saw Della's glance turn behind her. Edward was coming up towards them, the only villager in the street at this early hour.

"I see you're both on your way already," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"We have a long journey ahead of us," Merlin said. "And we didn't want to draw any more attention by leaving later."

Edward nodded. "I wanted to wish you both well on your journey," he said, extending a hand towards Merlin. "And to thank you, Merlin, for all of your help. I know there are a few others who feel the same."

He nodded. "I wish I could've done more."

"You did what you could," he said. Edward turned to Della then and took both of her hands in his, his eyes softening. "Della," he said, his voice low and sad, "I…I wish that things had turned out differently for us. I would ask you to stay, with me, but I know how circumstances would make that difficult."

Merlin felt slightly uncomfortable witnessing what should've been an otherwise private moment. He realized just how much she was giving up by leaving for the unknown with him and he suddenly felt very guilty.

"Edward," Della said, "I understand how deeply you feel, but even if I could stay, you know I have always viewed you as only a dear friend. And I will always hold you as such."

He nodded in understanding. "And I, you." He embraced her then and Merlin saw as the man was struggling to keep his heart from breaking. A knot welled up in his throat watching their goodbye.

"Merlin?" Edward called to him. Merlin turned to face him again. "Take care of her, will you?"

He nodded. "I will," he said as he saw Della turning a slight shade of pink in the early morning light.

Edward seemed satisfied with his promise. "I wish you both the best on your journey," he said. With that he nodded to both of them and turned quickly around, heading back into the village.

Della bit her lip to maintain her own composure as she watched Edward's receding figure head down the lane.

"You can still change your mind," Merlin said. "You can still—"

"No," she said, firm and resolute. "It's time for me to move on." She moved past him quickly towards the edge of the forest and never looked back.

He followed her quick footsteps, glancing back at Havenswood one last time before the long journey ahead.

* * *

They walked in silence for an hour as the clouds grew darker. His own thoughts shifted back and forth to all that occurred recently. Leaving the village reminded him of all that had happened before he'd arrived. Each step away from Havenswood also led him away from Avalon, where Arthur was. A part of him hesitated to ever leave this area, to stay in vigil beside the lake for Arthur's return. But that could be years—lifetimes even from now. And what was he to do in all that intervening time?

His thoughts dwelled on what his father's spirit said in the Crystal Cave, how he was magic incarnate, how he essentially was immortal. _Immortal._ The greatest sorcerer of all time destined to walk throughout the centuries, to face a perpetual solitary existence.

 _Don't think about that now._ At least today, he wasn't alone.

He looked back at Della, who was walking with her eyes downcast. He wondered what destiny had in store for her. The visions she had in connection with him surely meant something, though he didn't know what just yet. And her past... he still didn't know all that much about her, only that her mother was a Druid, yet she hadn't been raised as one.

Today wasn't the day to ask those questions though.

Suddenly, his ears alerted to a distant sound. Hoofbeats. They were coming at a quick pace and he remembered that they were on the main patrol road for the knights of Camelot. Another thought came to his mind—they were likely still looking for Arthur and himself.

The thought of encountering any of them right now and having to face that grief—and the guilt—head on was not something he wished to deal with.

He turned around and grabbed Della's arm. "Merlin, what—"

"We need to hide," he said, heading for a group of large oak trees clustered a few paces from the road. "I hear horses in the distance. They're probably on patrol from Camelot, looking for Arthur and—"

"No need to explain any more," she said and she bolted for the copse of trees as if she were the one they were searching for. He pushed the questions about her reaction back as he made it to the trees, waiting for the knights to pass.

Only a few moments later they came into view. There were only two of them but even from this distance, Merlin recognized the curly blonde hair of Sir Leon and the towering form of Sir Percival.

They stopped a few paces from the fork in the road that Merlin and Della just passed. He couldn't hear anything they were saying, but he saw Leon gesturing in the direction of Havenswood and Avalon. His guess was that Gaius likely told them where Merlin was headed with Arthur and why—and it had been too long for them not to have returned by now.

A small part of him wanted to run up to Leon and Percival and tell them everything that had happened, how he tried everything to save Arthur but it had been too late. But the guilt of his failure overwhelmed that urge and he stayed glued to his hiding spot, willing them to leave.

He looked over at Della, whose eyes were unblinking in their direction. Her gaze was firmly locked on Sir Leon. Despite the cool air, he noticed a sheen of perspiration on her forehead and quickened breathing.

 _She knows him._ Somehow, Leon had a tie with her past.

The pair of knights finally circled their horses in Havenswood's direction and Della let out a shaky breath.

"All right," he said slowly. "I know why I'm hiding from them—but why are you? Why did you look at Leon like that?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, unsuccessfully trying to dissuade his question.

"Don't lie to me," Merlin said. "You know Leon, don't you?"

She shook her head again. "Years ago, in passing. That's it." She went tight lipped then and he knew it would be a struggle to get anything more out of her. He didn't have the energy to insist on answers right now.

"Fine then," he said. "Shall we keep moving?"

* * *

The rain had started midday, and by mid-afternoon both of them were drenched and freezing. Della hadn't talked anymore after they saw the knights in the woods and they had both eaten their mid-day meal in silence.

Once again, he determined to himself that he would learn to master the art of teleportation. And soon.

His own mood grew darker as the day went on. They journeyed past places that held many memories of former excursions with Arthur and the knights. Each familiar landmark and path greeted him with painful memories of happier days gone by. Days that he wished he could bring back more than anything.

"Merlin?" a slight tug on his elbow made him turn. "I was wondering if we could stop soon?" She was shivering and he'd been so focused on putting distance between Camelot and himself today that he hadn't thought about how she was faring.

"Yes, we can," he said. "Just over the ridge there is a rocky outcropping that will provide a bit of shelter."

She nodded and started walking but not before he stopped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I pushed you too far today. And I'm sorry about earlier, with the knights. "

"Don't apologize," she said, giving him that small smile he was growing accustomed to seeing. "I shouldn't have been so short with you. I promise I'll tell you about it someday. Just not today. It brings back memories I'd rather forget."

They reached the ridge quickly and thankfully, the sky had begun to clear up. He found as dry of a spot as he was able and set down their pack of bedrolls and blankets.

"I'll try and find some wood for a fire," he said. "I'll be back in a little while."

"All right. I'll be here."

He didn't stray too far from their makeshift camp. He picked up what wood he could find that hadn't been soaked through by the day's rain. Gathering the firewood sent his thoughts back in time. He remembered all of the times he'd done the same on the many journeys he'd gone on with Arthur and the knights. Seeing Sir Leon and Sir Percival heading towards Havenswood earlier left an ever widening hole in his heart. Had it really been less than two weeks ago when they had all gambled and relaxed in The Rising Sun? It was like a lifetime had passed since then.

He missed his old life. What he wouldn't give for the days of being at the prat's beck and call, the daily brotherly banter exchanged between them. At times he still couldn't believe Arthur was well and truly dead; he half wondered if this had been some long and crazy dream, half waited for Gaius to prod him and tell him he was late for his duties again.

But it hadn't been a dream.

He made his way back to their small camp. Della was still quiet too, quietly chopping the small amount of vegetables she'd packed, perhaps sensing his mood. He never met anyone who could read him so clearly, though he suspected much of that had to do with her own powers and past visions of him.

He quickly built the fire, half forgetting that he didn't need to hide his magic. He'd done the same routine on Arthur's last night alive.

 _Why don't you use magic?_

 _Habit, I suppose. Feels strange._

It did feel strange, this world without Arthur. The thought hit him as if the sky had fallen, the weight of the world surrounding and crushing him from every angle. All the sorrow that had been building up over the past days came rushing forth in an unexpected torrent of emotion. Shattered hopes and broken promises of a once bright future rained around him like shards of glass slicing at his wounded heart.

Perhaps he would be better off alone, away from anyone that he could hurt. All of his best intentions had only harmed those he cared about.

He felt an arm around his shoulders, felt himself being drawn towards Della. She said nothing, just held him as he let the tears flow faster and greater than he ever could remember crying before.

 _Do not blame yourself, Merlin._ He heard Della's voice echo in his mind as she used her telepathy to connect with him.

"Why not?" he said, managing to choke out the words. "Everything that's happened in the last few days, from Arthur's death to Ealhwyn's, can be tied back to _me."_

"That's not true," Della said. "You're not thinking clearly. The grief.…"

"…Is showing me just how much in error I've been recently." He rubbed the tears from his cheeks with the palm of his hand and shook his head and looked at Della. "My poor decisions have cost the lives of so many. My destiny was to help Arthur unite Albion and bring magic back to the land. Yet I failed to protect him and bring about this great future everyone had hoped for, had _died_ for. Everything ended in utter disaster and I've never felt so helpless and lost in all my life."

"You _haven't_ failed," Della said. "Don't they always say the darkest hour is before the dawn?" She continued. Merlin remembered saying that very thing to Arthur when the Dorocha attacked, remembered thinking it couldn't get darker than that. He'd been wrong.

"I know Arthur is gone but I still believe Albion will be united and magic will be accepted again because of the path you've forged. I don't believe your destiny is over." She squeezed his shoulder. "I know you feel directionless—I do too. But after meeting you, it's shown me that, maybe, the dawn is on the horizon. You're still Albion's greatest hope."

A few days ago—hell, even a few moments ago—he thought destiny had been playing more cruel games with him. Her words were a balm to his heart and the conviction with which she spoke gave him confidence for the first time in awhile, reigniting a dim flame within him of the hope of a yet unfulfilled destiny.

She smiled at him in the firelight, her comforting presence lightening his heart. She was so close he could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes and the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Sitting before him, in the space of a moment, he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her. She must have sensed it, for he felt her draw ever so slightly closer to him.

The thought consumed him, but quickly fantasy gave way to rationality. He realized that if he gave in to that momentary desire, it would not be for the right reason. Not yet anyway.

He pulled back, and cleared his throat coming back to reality and trying his best to calm his racing heart. "You've given me more hope just now than I've felt in months," he said. "Thank you." He squeezed her hand tighter but made no move to let go. He may have pulled back from a deeper relationship with her but he still wanted her warm hand in his.

"No need to thank me," she said. "It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me." She kept hold of his hand and made no move to let go either.

He didn't know how long they sat there, staring at the fire, just taking simple comfort in one another's presence, nor did he care. It was something they both needed to continue moving forward on the path destiny had given them.

* * *

 **A/N: Long chapter this week! I figure it's the least I can do since it's been almost 3 weeks since I posted the last installment. If you're still following along this new journey of Merlin's, I thank you! I really appreciate knowing there are others who are interested in what could've occurred after Arthur's passing. There's quite a bit more in store, so I hope you continue to enjoy the new adventures ahead :)**

 **And as always, a huge thank you to my beta, Requiem17, and all the time spent chatting about the direction of this chapter and the pivotal fireside scene. Check out her stories, Three Wheels: A Year for Secrets and the sequel, Three Wheels: The Year of Shadows. Both are amazing and you won't want to stop reading :)**

 **Thank you again!**


	8. Truth Revealed

The sky grew dark with rain clouds as Leon and Percival rode towards the village of Havenswood in search of Merlin.

The witch Morgana was dead, as Percival reported when he returned to Camelot two days ago—and so was the king.

Leon didn't want to believe that Arthur was gone, but Percival was certain. When he went to the lake of Avalon, he found only one set of footprints leading away from the shoreline, as well as marks in the mud showing that a boat was sent out into the lake. Had Arthur survived, both he and Merlin would have returned already. Avalon was only a few hours' journey on foot from the city, not three days.

The king's death was already announced in court and Guinevere was now sole reigning monarch. But she—as well as Leon, Percival and Gaius—were determined to find Merlin and ask him what happened.

A sickly sweet and acrid odor interrupted Leon's thoughts. He knew that smell: the smell of the dead. But it was stronger than a single body on a pyre; his eyes watered at its strength.

Percival noticed it, too. "That's not normal." They stopped just before the clearing to the village.

"It certainly isn't," Leon responded. He edged his horse into a canter down the hill towards Havenswood. The moment they entered the clearing, it was obvious a battle—or more likely a massacre—recently occurred.

"By the gods, " Leon muttered. Some of the cottages were burned to ash, with damage on many of the neighboring ones. How it stopped from consuming the entire village was a miracle in and of itself.

"Sir," Percival called to him. He gestured towards a long freshly covered mound. Leon's stomach dropped.

"We need to find out what happened immediately," he said. They led their horses towards the cottages. It did not take long to come across a middle aged man coming out of his home. He jumped back at the sight of two knights on horseback, obviously still on edge.

"Heaven and hell, I thought they'd come back," the man muttered.

"Thought who had come back?" Leon asked. "Can you tell us what happened?"

The man rubbed his forehead, his eyes clouding over in recollection. "Saxons, sire," he said. "They were lookin' for a sorcerer."

"A sorcerer?" Leon asked, surprised at where the conversation was headed. "Why?"

"Don't know, sire," the man said. "Guessing revenge for somethin'. Had to be about fifty or so that came yesterday just after dawn. The sorcerer attacked a few of the men in the woods two days ago rescuing one of our village healers, but I think there was more bad blood between them than that."

 _Two days ago._ Right around the time when Merlin could've come through. Was he an unfortunate victim in the onslaught?

"How were they defeated?" Simple farmers couldn't defeat a battle-hardened group that large.

"By magic, sire," he said. "The sorcerer used some kind of shield spell before we all ran. Then he called lightning down from the sky. Most of 'em were killed that way. Not sure how the rest died; I ran for the woods with my wife and two daughters though not before—" he stopped, his voice breaking. "My eldest was shot through with an arrow by one of the beasts."

Leon's heart sank at the man's story. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, good sir."

The man nodded as he used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Fifteen people died by their hands but we'd all be lyin' dead if not for him. He brought the Saxons to our doors but he also saved us all from being a pile of rottin' corpses. That pyre over there," he gestured towards the opposite end of the village where a large plume of smoke floated up to the sky, "is all that's left of the bastards."

Leon thought of the sorcerer at Camlann. They sounded one in the same. "Is the man still here?"

"No sire," the man responded. "He left at first light along with our healer. She ended up being a sorceress too, though no one knew until then. Couldn't say where they were headed."

"What did the he look like?" Leon asked.

"He was a younger man, not older than yourself."

Well, that was unexpected. He turned to Percival. "Not the same sorcerer then."

Percival shook his head. "Or it is and he changed his appearance."

 _Of course._ Leon turned back to the villager. "Can you describe him in more detail?" Leon asked.

He nodded. "He was on the taller end of normal, with raven colored hair, and blue eyes."

Did he hear that correctly? He sounded like he was describing Merlin. His mind was playing tricks on him. Merlin wasn't the only man to have that complexion or build and he was certainly not a deadly sorcerer such as this one.

"Any other features that stood out?" Leon said.

"Not really, sir," the man said. "He looked like an average enough man. Was quite on the thin side, not the knightly type such as yourself."

He felt quite unsettled as the description sounded more and more like their friend. But how to know for certain? Leon thought back on how Merlin looked, trying to come up with any other distinguishing attributes. Suddenly, he remembered something that would answer the question once and for all.

"Did he wear a scarf? Red or blue in color?" Merlin nearly always wore that scarf of his, so much so that he and the others often joked with him that he'd been born with one around his neck.

The man pondered a moment and then nodded. "Why, yes, sir, he did! Color as red as your cape there."

Leon's mouth opened in shock. No. No, it couldn't be. _This cannot be true!_

"And you're _sure_ you're not mistaken in any way?" Percival said. "Perhaps it was the sorceress that cast the spell instead?"

"As I stand before you, it was him," the man said. "I didn't see what she did; I only heard about that later on. But I saw him call the clouds overhead; I watched as he directed his hand towards the Saxons, and saw as the blinding light cast them down. I'll never forget him as long as I'm this side of death."

Leon drew a hand over his face, waves of disbelief coursing through him. He didn't want to believe any of what this villager said but there was too much damning evidence and no reason for him to lie. Combined with his exact description, the timeline of events and the location of Havenswood in relation to Avalon, it couldn't be anyone else _but_ Merlin.

He couldn't put the two people together in his head: Merlin, the servant and Merlin, the _sorcerer._

"I will bring word of this back to Camelot, sir," Leon said, trying not to think about the uncomfortable truth revealed. "Rest assured the king and queen will send assistance in whatever way necessary." He would not let the people know about the king's fate yet— certainly not in the wake of such a tragedy. Word would reach the village soon enough.

"Thank you so much, sire." The man nodded his thanks, his eyes watering anew. Leon bid the villager goodbye and motioned to Percival to head back to the woods.

Percival halted his horse to a stop once they reached the ridgeline on the edge of the village. "So. Do you think the man he described was our Merlin?"

"Yes, " Leon said. "As much as I wish it wasn't true." The realization dawned on him as gradual as a candle lighting up a dark room. Merlin's trip to Avalon, a center of ancient magic, made more sense now, and scattered memories flickered across his mind. "How many times has Merlin miraculously escaped death while with us over the years?"

"I just assumed he was an extremely lucky fellow," Percival said. "Couldn't comprehend him ever having magic—especially not being as close to the king as he was. The thought never even crossed my mind."

"Nor mine," Leon said. "Perhaps we should've been more discerning." Leon thought back on a few of the more remarkable episodes of Merlin's "luck. "He should've immediately died when he was attacked by the Dorocha, yet he managed to keep breathing when no one else survived an attack. And when we took back Camelot from Morgana both times, he somehow evaded serious injury despite the heavily armed soldiers."

They had often teased him of conveniently hiding when the battles were intense, yet he always insisted that he stay at Arthur's side no matter what, despite being untrained in the ways of battle. It made more sense now; he wasn't hiding but fighting with _magic._

"And that mission to rescue the queen from The Dark Tower," Percival continued. "He was the one who got us out of those damned woods, kept us from going in circles for eternity." He shook his head. "In hindsight, I should've questioned it then, but at the time I was just thankful we didn't rot there."

"We were blind," Leon said. "We chose not to see it." _Because I only ever thought him a humble servant. Loyal and brave, but a servant nonetheless._

"There's something else," Percival let out a heavy breath. "If Merlin was that sorcerer at Camlann and the one who came here, then he and that Dragoon fellow are the same person."

Leon hadn't put that together, and yet another revelation occurred to him. "He was the sorcerer who killed Uther." He didn't want to believe the words as he uttered them.

"Yes, but Gaius said Dragoon was there to heal him and that Uther was too far gone to be saved even by magic," Percival said. "Knowing what I do now, I don't believe he killed him on purpose. This is Merlin we're talking about. He's only ever thought of everyone before himself—even Uther, who would've had him killed on the spot if he'd known."

"Maybe he isn't as magnanimous as he's led us to believe," Leon said. He couldn't help but feel betrayed at his new identity. "Why had he knowingly risked discovery especially when Uther was alive? There must be a reason beyond just loyalty to Arthur and Camelot. No, there's something more behind it." Magic caused more harm in his experience than good. It tore lives apart—including his own. "I'll be forever grateful for the times he saved us but the fact still remains that he's a sorcerer. And from the looks of it, an extremely powerful one. Such people are not to be trusted."

Percival nodded slowly but Leon could tell from the look on his face that he did not agree. "What do we do now? Should we try and see if we can catch up with him on the road?"

"No," Leon said. "We need to let the queen know about the attack here—and about Merlin's secret. Let her decide how we should continue."

"But Leon," Percival said. "He's our friend. Shouldn't we—"

"We'll leave it up to the queen," Leon interrupted. He wasn't entirely certain how he would react if he came face to face with him now. "Let's head back." He kicked his horse into a gallop, as if that would help him forget the truth.

* * *

Guinevere watched as the last member of the Council exited the room. She took a shaky breath. Only Gaius remained behind, standing stoically next to her. She was thankful for his presence—one of the only friendly faces left in her life now.

"I think that could've gone better," she said.

Gaius looked to be contemplating what to say next. "It was to be expected, all things considered. I remember a very similar meeting when Uther passed."

"Back then, they knew the kingdom would be ruled by Arthur. Not by a former servant." She voiced the doubts that she read on each of the noble's faces. "They've never truly felt comfortable with me as Queen. Even less so now." She looked down at the ring on her finger—the only vestige left of her marriage. "And I cannot say I blame them."

Gaius put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do not doubt your ability to lead this kingdom, Your Highness. You are more capable than you give yourself credit for."

"Thank you, Gaius." It helped that someone continued to have faith in her, even if she doubted it herself. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to closet herself away from the responsibility and burden of ruling a kingdom alone. The emptiness within her heart threatened to consume her but she did not have the luxury to spend time mourning.

Camelot came first, always.

The chamber doors opened, breaking her maudlin thoughts. In strode Sir Leon and Sir Percival and for the briefest of moments, hope filled her. Arthur was gone—that much she knew—but her best friend was still missing. She glanced behind them, half hoping to see that ever familiar mop of dark hair.

Leon and Percival bowed. "Your Highness," Leon said. The look in his eyes made whatever hope she had evaporate quickly. "We have some unfortunate news to report."

"What is it?" she asked. _Please, don't let Merlin be dead too!_

"While searching for Merlin, we discovered the village of Havenswood was attacked by a rogue group of Saxons. They were searching for the sorcerer from Camlann."

She knew who that sorcerer was; Gaius had all but confirmed her suspicions. "Did they find him?"

Leon and Percival exchanged glances and by theIr hesitance, she surmised that they too now knew the truth, though she tensed at the thought of how.

Leon picked up the story. "Regarding the sorcerer, my lady..." he trailed off. "He's someone we all know very well."

"It was Merlin," she said, matter-of-factly, not wishing to prolong the inevitable. "What happened to him?"Gaius tensed next to her, likely hesitant to hear what might come next.

Leon looked surprised at her reaction. "He's still alive, your Highness. Much of the village was spared due to his actions and the Saxons are no longer a threat."

Tears of relief clouded her vision. "I'm thankful to hear that." He was safe and she was grateful for his courage, once again saving the lives of so many.

Leon nodded once but wore a mask of confusion. "Your Highness, you don't seem surprised by Merlin and his...powers."

Guinevere quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and continued. "I've had suspicions for awhile, but mostly at Camlann, when I saw him on the mountain," she said. "I don't know why, but I just _knew."_

"And it does not bother you?" Leon asked. " He kept this from us for years." She heard the hurt and betrayal in his words.

"I understand his need for secrecy," she said. "Uther would've had him killed and Arthur…" she shook her head. Did Merlin tell him before he died? "Arthur was still hesitant about his feelings towards magic. He was more lenient than Uther but I am not sure how he would come to terms with his closest friend being a powerful warlock. I'm guessing his reaction would be similar to yours."

Leon tensed. "He has magic, Guinevere. And after I heard the villager's tale of just how much power he does have, it leaves me unsettled."

"Not all who use it are like Morgana, Leon," Guinevere said. Leon's feelings towards sorcery had long been influenced by Uther. "Without him, she would be here on the throne."

Leon looked away, clearly struggling. "I understand, Your Highness. But I can't see him in the same way. He's a completely different person than the man I thought I knew."

Guinevere sighed. She put her hand on his arm. "Remember who he has always been—selfless, kind and wholeheartedly brave. Think about what he's done for Camelot—and for us all." _And what he tried to do for Arthur._ It hurt knowing that Merlin had watched Arthur die, and that he was now suffering in his grief alone.

Leon nodded but she knew it would be something he would continue to battle with. "Yes, your Highness."

She removed her hand. "Do you know where he is now?"

He shook his head. "Only that he left Havenswood with their village healer, who apparently also was a sorceress in disguise."

That intrigued her for a moment and Gaius raised an eyebrow at the last part. She wondered why he traveled with a stranger but knew such questions would not be answered. He was not coming back to Camelot, which saddened her greatly.

"Do you wish us to continue to search for him?" Leon asked.

Guinevere shook her head. "As much as I want him to return to us here, he must feel a reason to stay away." She suspected he felt guilty for failing to save Arthur, among a myriad of other things. And for a moment she envied him—envied that he _could_ run away and choose to avoid a place filled with broken promises of a future never to come. "We will leave him to come to the decision to return on his own."

"Yes, your Highness. Is there anything else you wish for us to do?"

Guinevere thought back to the attack on the village. "Organize a contingent of knights to collect some food and supplies from around the city for the people of Havenswood. I will make sure the merchants and farmers who give are reimbursed. And I will need a patrol sent in each direction around Camelot to make sure there are no other rogue groups of Saxons terrorizing our citizens."

"Understood. Percival and I will work on that immediately." He and Percival bowed and exited the chamber.

Guinevere sighed, exhaustion taking over. The morning had been busy and hellish and all she wanted was a few moments' peace with her sorrow. She looked to Gaius, who had remained silent the entire time. He was grieving in his own way too.

"Do you think I made the right decision? Regarding Merlin?" she asked.

Gaius nodded. "When I had said goodbye to him in the woods, I felt that it would be for the last time. I am certain he believes his time here is done." His voice was low and broken and she could tell that he was fighting to maintain his stoic composure.

Gaius' grief was the final bit that drove Guinevere to tears. The thought of never seeing Merlin again combined with Arthur's death was suddenly too much. _It's as if he died too._

"Oh Gaius, how are we to go on?"

He brought her into a much needed hug just as he had a lifetime ago when she had been just a servant. "I don't know, your Highness," he said, "but we will go on because we must."


	9. Dawn of a New Day

"Merlin," He heard Della's voice on the edge of sleep and felt her hand gently shake his shoulder. "Time to wake up."

He stirred a bit and grunted, keeping his eyes closed. Morning came too soon. Again. "Hmmm."

"Come now, I have some porridge ready for you," she said.

The promise of food was enticement enough. He cracked both eyes open, meeting her warm smile. A few strands of her hair came loose from her braid. He grinned back. "That's a nice sight to wake up to," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

 _Wait. Did he just say that out loud? Damn._

He sat up and propped himself on one elbow and cleared his throat. "I mean, the food is nice," he amended. "That's not to say you're an unpleasant sight to see, but, um, what I mean to say is, well—" he ran a hand through his hair, appalled at his inability to string together proper thoughts this morning. _Idiot._

"Merlin, it's fine," she said, her smile remaining. "You were half asleep. Besides, it was a nice compliment." She handed him the bowl of porridge. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," he said, thankful for her diverting the conversation. "It's been a long time since I slept straight through the night." He took a bite of the porridge. The taste took him by surprise. It was lightly sweetened and thicker than the normal watery paste he was accustomed to. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed—perhaps a little more excited than was warranted.

She laughed at his reaction. "It's just got a spot of honey in it. Nothing amazing about it."

He shook his head, scooping another spoonful into his mouth. He swallowed and continued. "Gaius never made anything this good for breakfast. It was always pretty basic. Half the time I woke up too late to eat much more than some stale bread or some gruel."

"Don't get too accustomed to it," she said. "I just thought you might like something a little more comforting than plain porridge after last night. My mother—" she stopped herself mid-sentence. This was the first time she'd ever mentioned anything about her past willingly. She looked hesitant to continue but did so anyway. "My mother used to make me this after a particularly rough time."

"Well, I really appreciate it," he said. "It was very thoughtful of you." He wanted to ask more about her mother but reconsidered.

"Thank you." Della took a bite of her own food and did what she was good at when he knew she was uncomfortable—change the subject.

"So, how much further do we have?" she asked.

Merlin swallowed another bite and looked at the sky. "If the weather holds, we should be there by mid-afternoon." He finished the last bits of his meal quickly. "So…is there enough for a second helping?" he asked.

Della laughed. "Yes. Eat as much as you want."

"Great!" He stood up went over to the cooking pot. Amazing how a good night's rest and a delicious meal could make him feel. For the first time in days he actually felt some semblance of happiness, even if it would likely be short lived.

He turned and met her gaze as he licked a bit of spilled porridge from the side of his finger. "What is it?" he asked. "Is there some on my face too?"

"N..no," she stuttered. "I'm just glad to see you in a happier mood today."

"Much of that is thanks to you," he said, smiling at her. "And this helps too." He gestured to the porridge.

"Well then, if that's all it takes, remind me to get more honey."

"Oh I will, don't worry about that," he said. It was nice to see that bit of wit he'd noticed on that first day returning.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully. He helped her clean up and pack their belongings and soon they were on the road to Ealdor again. The day was proving to be much warmer than the one before as the sun shone brightly through the forest canopy. It was a welcomed change.

"What's Ealdor like?' Della said, some time after they'd started off.

He shrugged. "Just an average village. It's smaller than Havenswood. Nothing remarkable." He looked back at her and continued. "When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to leave, to find some place where I wouldn't have to hide my true self. To be more than just a farm boy born with magic he couldn't use." Melancholy slipped back into his thoughts. "And yet here I am, years later, still searching. Funny how life works like that."

"You could always go back to Camelot," she said. "I'm sure you're greatly missed."

He thought of Gaius and their farewell. _I'll have your favorite meal waiting for you_. A lump rose in his throat remembering the way he'd said it. It was as if Gaius sensed that was the last time they'd see each other. "No, it's better that I stay away. There's nothing there for me but shadows and memories of my failure."

She nodded. "I understand," she said.

He studied her closely. "Do you?"

She chose her words carefully. "Only that I know what it's like to leave behind an entire life."

He arched an eyebrow. "You're not referring to Havenswood now, are you? "

She remained silent for a few moments as they continued walking. Then she spoke again.

"I lived in Camelot as a child and into my adolescence. There were certain…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "...circumstances that dictated my departure."

He assumed as much after her reaction to Leon the previous day. "Someone discovered you had magic, right?" He paused, making sure to avoid mentioning him.

"Yes." She closed her eyes and he could tell the memories were still painful.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking again," he said. "I know I ask too many questions sometimes. I'm just—trying to get to know you as well as you seem to know me. I'm at an unfair disadvantage." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood once more.

"Don't apologize," she said. "I know that I haven't exactly been forthcoming to you about myself. But I promise in time, I will."

In time. How long would she be a part of his life? He also wondered just how long she'd known of him. He knew at least as far back as the Veil between the worlds tearing, which was past four years now.

"Can you tell me something else then?"

"You want to know how long I've had visions of you."

"How did you—"

"I know you've been wondering about it since you found out I was a seer," she said.

It was eerie how easily she was able to read him. He supposed that's what happened after seeing him in visions for so long.

"Are you sure you want the answer?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course!" he said. Now his heart was racing in anticipation.

She took a breath and focused on the ground ahead of her. "Do you remember when all the crops in Camelot died overnight? And when the water dried up?"

"Yes," he said, slowly. That was the first year he lived in Camelot.

"The vision came two days before it happened," she said. "I saw the crops wither and the wells run dry. And I saw you and Arthur standing around a dead unicorn. I didn't know who you were until some time later."

"I…I'm not sure how to respond." He said.

She nodded, still averting her eyes. "I figured as much. How can anyone react to a stranger saying they've seen them countless times over the course of a decade?"

He heard the hurt and hesitation in her voice. Though he was uneasy, it hadn't been her choice to have all these visions given to her. "Yes, it's unsettling to hear, but you didn't choose to be a seer. It's what you were born with, what fate allotted you. And you're no stranger to me, Della," he said. "You're kin. We're bound together through our magic. Much like all who have this gift."

"I've yet to see the "gift" aspect of it," she said.

"I know," he said. "But perhaps that's yet to come."

"It's been so long, Merlin."

"Yes, but now you've actually met me. Maybe we had to meet in order for you to…" he hesitated to say the next words, "to fulfill your destiny."

"But what destiny exactly?" She said.

"All these years later and I'm still trying to figure that one out myself," he said. Just when he had an idea of where fate was taking him, it took him in a completely unexpected direction. "I suppose, like all things, it'll be revealed in time."

"Because half my life isn't enough time already," she muttered, bitterness laced in her words.

"I wish I had more answers for you," he said. "I was fortunate enough to have a dragon's foresight to guide me along the way. If I could, I'd ask him for advice but… unfortunately, he's gone now too. Or at least, close to it." Kilgharrah pretty much made it clear to him at Avalon that they would be parting ways for good. Yet part of him felt the great dragon was still alive, somewhere.

They crossed the ridge of Ascetir shortly after midday. Conversation stalled between them and she was silent as they ate quickly at midday before continuing on.

"You know," he said, hoping to take both their minds off the subject of destiny, "I'm actually a little nervous about going back."

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm not ready for all the questions everyone will have about my return," he said. "I've only been back a few times over the years since I left. They all knew I was Arthur's servant. And many of them knew Arthur personally, too."

She looked puzzled by that statement. "How would they know him? They're in Lot's kingdom."

"Back when Cenred was king, a group of raiders blackmailed and attacked the village. Arthur came with me to help fight them off," he said. "Gwen and Morgana too—when Morgana still had a heart." He smiled sadly. "They all helped in banding everyone together to fight. The raiders were driven out, and their leader killed."

"I'm guessing you helped more than they knew," she said. "How did you manage to keep your magic a secret?"

He sighed. "That was thanks to Will, my best friend. Arthur saw the whirlwind spell I conjured that drove out the raiders and Will took responsibility. He ended up dying from the bandit leader's arrow that was meant for Arthur."

"I'm so sorry," she said

"It's all right," he said. "He's just one of many I've lost over the years." Well, that ended up dampening the mood again. "At least I still have my mother." If anything, that was the one bright side about returning. He smiled, trying to push away the encroaching grief again. "You'll like her. She's the kindest soul I've ever known."

Della smiled. "I'd expect nothing less. She raised you after all."

He smiled in return, feeling a bit sheepish at the compliment. "Um…thanks," he said. He didn't want to admit to himself, but her compliments made his heart lighter. He hoped he could hold onto that feeling now as they approached Ealdor. They turned a corner and he recognized the ever familiar road as it widened into a clearing, the sight of the village not too far off in the distance.

He paused at the corner. "There it is," he said. "Almost home."

* * *

Della didn't miss the hesitance in Merlin's voice as he pointed out Ealdor. The way he'd said it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. While it may have been his home at one time, she still firmly believed his heart lay in Camelot.

Merlin went forward and she followed, making sure she kept a pace or two behind him. Her stomach churned with her ever growing anxiety. Her former resolve of starting anew had quickly dissipated and now her mind raced with questions and worry. What would everyone think of her, this stranger arriving alongside their village hero? And where would she live? She knew she couldn't stay with Merlin and his mother for long; she needed to make her own way.

Try as she might to assuage such thoughts, they came faster and more persistent with each step.

They crossed the boundary into Ealdor itself and Della immediately felt homesick for Havenswood. It was similar—as she suspected it would be—though Merlin was right in describing it as tiny. From her vantage point, she could see there were half as many cottages here as Havenswood.

"Merlin?" She heard a man's voice from a cottage door. "Is that you, boy?" They both turned and saw an older man, sitting on a wooden bench outside, leaning against a wooden cane.

Merlin walked towards the man and extended his hand in greeting "Hello, Master Howell."

Master Howell took his hand. " 'Tis a surprise to see you here." He said. "And who is this lovely young lady with you? Have you finally gotten yourself a woman?"

Her face burned at the insinuation but she knew this would hardly be the last time such presumptions were made. She watched as Merlin's ears turned red. "Actually…no. She's just a friend. This is Della. Della, Master Howell." He made the introduction quickly, scratching the back of his neck in a sign of discomfort.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Della said. Master Howell studied her closely and nodded wordlessly, clearly unsure of what to make of this "friend" of Merlin's.

He turned back to Merlin. "Word came of the battle at Camlann and your king's disappearance. We all wondered about you too. I take it King Arthur is safe and well?"

The smile quickly faded from Merlin's face. Not more than a few steps into Ealdor and he was already confronted with what he dreaded. Della watched as he struggled to find the words and keep his composure. "He…um, I'm afraid to say he…did not survive the battle."

Master Howell's former cheerful demeanor dissipated. "Oh. Oh, son, I'm sorry." He paused a moment. "He was a great man. Not many rulers like him who care for us common folk. Truly a shame."

Merlin nodded and she could tell he was trying to find a way out of the uncomfortable conversation. Della came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. "We should continue on towards your mother's," she said, providing him an exit.

"Yes," he said. Master Howell eyed her quizzically, but Merlin was quick enough to stop any more conversation. "Good day, Master Howell." He nodded and turned and gave Della a small smile.

"Good day," Master Howell replied back. Merlin walked on and Della followed not too far behind.

"Thank you, by the way ,"Merlin said quietly once they were a few paces down the lane. "For ending that discussion. I don't know if I would've been able to say much more without falling to pieces." Trailing off, he took her hand and squeezed it once.

Before she could find the words to respond, he let go. "There," he said, pointing to a house at the end of the lane. "We're here." He increased his stride and she let him go ahead as she fell a few steps behind, watching as he searched for his mother, much as a child would. He went to the side of the house and disappeared from view. She caught up and found him in a small herb garden, his hand on the shoulder of a woman kneeling on the ground. She looked up at him, surprise evident in her face.

"Merlin! Oh, my son!" she stood immediately and embraced him. Della stayed back, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Her eyes watered at their tender reunion. She heard Merlin's voice break and it reminded her of the night before, just how heartbroken he was. She wished he didn't have to relay the story again but knew it was part of the healing process.

"He's dead, Mother," she heard him say. "Arthur…I couldn't save him." He took in a sharp breath and his shoulders shook as his mother tightened her embrace.

His mother remained silent but Della watched as tears streamed down her face. She stood there, holding Merlin as he cried, giving only the comfort a mother could give. The scene tore at Della's heart as part of her longed for the comforting embrace of her own mother or Ealhwyn.

 _But I have no one left._ Suddenly, it was too painful to watch, not without succumbing to her own grief.

She turned around and walked to the front of the cottage, trying to quell the rising sadness. An enveloping loneliness surrounded her like a death shroud, tight and unyielding. Tears fell as she remembered the light of life leaving Ealhwyn's eyes.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, in front of the cottage, lost in her own heartache, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over, quickly wiping her cheeks, to see Merlin's mother standing there. "Come inside, will you?" she asked, the same kindness reflected in her eyes as her son had. "I'm Hunith, by the way."

"My name's Della," she responded, trying to force a small smile.

Hunith returned the smile and led her inside, her comforting hand still on her shoulder. Merlin stood at the door, concern written on his face. _Are you all right?_ His telepathic message echoed in her mind.

Even in the middle of his own sorrow, he still put her feelings above his own. _Yes_ , she responded back. _Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine._

He met her gaze and nodded once, seeming to understand. She wished he didn't feel the need to constantly make sure she was okay. He had enough burdens without adding her own.

Della followed Merlin and his mother inside. The interior of the cottage was bigger than where she lived before. It wasn't large by any means—room enough for a table and two beds, a cupboard and a chest in the far corner. Dried herbs hung on one wall and it reminded Della of home.

Della sat on the bench at the table nearest the fireplace and Merlin sat across from her, putting both arms on the table. Hunith took the spot nearest her son and looked from both Della to Merlin. "Are you able to tell me all that happened?" she asked. "I know the last few days must've been difficult for you. Both of you."

Merlin looked at his hands and Della could tell he was trying to find the words to begin. "There's…there's quite a bit," he said. "Are you sure you're ready for it all?"

Hunith put her hand on Merlin's arm. "I'm ready for whatever you want to tell me."

Merlin sighed. "All right." He took another steadying breath before he began. "It all started months ago, with the judgment of the Disir…."

* * *

Hunith listened to her son's account of all the events that had befallen him the past few months. No wonder the letters stopped. Her heart broke for him and all the choices he had to make , the choices that brought such misfortune. She struggled to be strong for him, as much as she felt her own tears threatening to take over.

Gone was his wide-eyed innocence and wonder. Instead she saw a man—yet forever her little boy—broken and lost.

"I killed Morgana with Excalibur," Merlin said continuing his story, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's no longer a threat to anyone anymore. It was something that needed done ages ago yet I'd been too hesitant to do it. I thought that maybe she still had a shred of compassion left buried beneath all that hatred. I let my hope blind me to reality."

"You did what you thought was right," Hunith said, rubbing his arm. "You've always sought to find the good in others."

"And that was my downfall, just as Kilgharrah told me years ago," he said bitterly. "He warned me so many times about how dangerous she was and I ignored him each time. And Arthur's dead, Gwen's a widow and Camelot is without its king because of me and my poor decisions." He shook his head. "And now I'm drifting, wondering what purpose I have now."

What could she say to help him? "Losing Arthur is indeed a great loss. I know he was like a brother to you and a part of your heart will always have that missing piece." She took both of his hands in hers. "But you will always have a purpose. Your destiny is not over; it just changed direction."

Merlin smiled and she watched as his gaze turned to the young woman who'd come with him. "Della said almost the exact same thing to me last night." A shadow of admiration was evident and for the first time since he'd arrived, Hunith noticed the light of hope in his eyes. She wondered at the relationship between the two. They must have only known each other for a short time, yet she sensed an undercurrent of much more between them.

"How did you come to know Merlin so well?" Hunith asked.

Della looked hesitant to answer. She glanced over at Merlin and their eyes locked for a moment and it almost seemed as if they were communicating without words. Hunith knew Merlin had that ability with the Druids. Was Della a Druid girl?

Whatever passed between them dissipated and Della continued. "I…I'm a seer," she said, the unsteadiness evident. "I've had visions for years. Most of them involved Merlin and to a lesser extent, Arthur and Camelot itself." She bit her lip and her anxiety was clear. She must've been wondering what she would think of her. "Merlin met me in the woods outside my village. He saved my life." Her voice was so soft and strained, and Hunith knew she was keeping grief of her own at bay. There was a great deal more to the story but enough tears were shed this day.

An instinctual reaction made Hunith get up from her place next to Merlin and sat next to Della. "You don't need to worry," she said, placing an arm around her. "You'll be safe here. I promise you."

Della smiled in gratitude and leaned in ever so slightly towards her. "Thank you," she said.

"So," Merlin's voice broke through the silence. "What happens now?"

Hunith turned back towards him, wishing she had the answers he was so desperate to find. "Well," she said, "let's just get through the next few days, shall we? People will wonder why you've returned and brought someone new with you."

"We met Master Howell on our way into town," Merlin said. "He already met Della and thought she was my wife." He turned pink at the mention and Hunith had to bite back the smile. She initially wondered the same thing seeing Della arrive with him, if albeit briefly.

"I'll look into finding my own place as soon as possible," Della added. "That should help clear up any misunderstandings about my relationship with Merlin."

"Nonsense," Hunith said. "There's no rush for you to leave. You are welcome to stay as long as you need. And I can answer whatever questions might arise." She was suddenly reminded of the day Balinor arrived—and all the questions that arose with his sudden departure and her subsequent pregnancy. Explaining Della's presence was easy in comparison.

"But I really should—"

Merlin interrupted her. "You aren't going to win this one, Della. Trust me on that." He looked over at Hunith and gave his characteristic grin.

 _Well, at least he learned something all these years_ , Hunith mused, returning the grin.

Della took a deep breath in resignation looking at both of them. "All right," she said. "But not longer than necessary. And please, let me help you in whatever way necessary. I can cook, spin, help in the garden-" Hunith saw a fierce determination in her eyes and she was reminded of herself at the same age.

"In time," Hunith said, patting her hand. "But for today, you ought to rest." She stood up and went over to the small cupboard. "I'll get some supper going for us. Merlin, can you help set up a place for Della to sleep?"

Merlin nodded and went to the back of the cottage and busied himself with the chore. Della got up and came over to where she was setting out some vegetables. "Please, let me help with supper," Della said. "I'm not one for sitting idle, even if I am someone's guest."

Hunith saw another trait similar to herself and smiled. "If you wish. Here, you can help chop these leeks."

Della took the knife and focused on the task at hand, not once looking up. Hunith wondered how much of her desire to keep busy was her own way of hiding the pain of whatever happened recently.

Merlin was nearly done with setting up the blankets for Della's bed and Hunith had more questions for her son. She walked over to him. "You haven't told me how long you plan on staying."

He glanced up at her once, and shrugged turning his attention back to straightening the blanket. "I hadn't thought about it." He said quietly.

There was no delicate way of bringing the next question up. "What about your life in Camelot?"

He paused just for the briefest of moments and then continued his task, purposely avoiding her gaze—something he'd often done to avoid talking about an uncomfortable topic. "I'll never go back there, Mother."

"Never Merlin?" she said. "What about Gwen? And Gaius? Do they even know what happened to you?"

Merlin sighed, slightly exasperated. "I'm sure they'll figure it out. And I'm likely the last person Gwen'll want to see." The last few words came out broken.

"You know that's not true," Hunith said.

"Even so, I know I wouldn't be able to face her," he said. He finished straightening the blankets and stood up, trying desperately to change the subject. "Is there anything else you need help with right now?"

Hunith knew that the guilt he carried was crushing him. While he may not be able to face the friends he loved back in Camelot in person right now, there was something else he could do. "Yes, there is: I'd like you to write to Gaius and Gwen."

The sound of Della's chopping quieted for a moment and Merlin just looked down at Hunith, unable to find the words.

Hunith continued. "They love and care about you, regardless of what happened at Camlann. Please, Merlin. Just let them know you're safe."

"Mother, " he shook his head, fighting back his grief. "I can't." A tear trailed down his cheek and he quickly brushed it away.

"Can't or won't?" Hunith said. "If you don't write them, I can on your behalf."

Merlin said nothing but just stared at her, his jaw locked. She knew his stubbornness well—it came from her, did it not?

Della's quiet voice broke through the silence. "Writing might help ease the pain of saying goodbye—to them and to Arthur. I'm sure it would help ease their grief, too."

The stubbornness in Merlin's eyes softened. He may not have been entirely convinced but Hunith saw he was closer to agreeing than he had been before.

"I'll think about it," he finally said. The tension between them eased and he leaned in and embraced Hunith. "I'm going to be outnumbered in a lot of arguments, aren't I?" A small grin returned as he looked from her to Della.

Hunith returned the hug, leaning in on his shoulder. "Only the ones that matter." In time, he'd be convinced again that his path lay elsewhere. For now, fate had brought him back here and she would do her best to guide him.

* * *

 **Chapter songs: This is Your Life by Switchfoot; Wanderer's Lullaby by Adriana Figueroa**

* * *

 **A/N:**

A few references sprinkled throughout the chapter from episodes in series 1, namely The Labyrinth of Gedref and Moment of Truth and of course in passing, Merlin's mention of the Disir from series 5 (how can we not forget that episode...)

I apologize for taking a month to upload a new chapter. This was difficult for me to write for whatever reason plus life got in the way. I promise I will try and upload at least bi-weekly from now on.

A huge thank you to **Requiem17,** who is always helping to make my story better. And another thank you to my new beta, **Jewelsmg.** She really helped me polish the final bit up and I'm incredibly thankful to have two wonderful betas who are willing to help and listen to me when I have issues with character cooperation and plot difficulties.

And thank you to all who read this little story of mine. Here's hoping it helps soften the series' ending :)


	10. Whirlwinds and Webs

Merlin pulled the roots of the corncockle and tossed it in the basket on the ground beside him. He sighed and wiped the perspiration beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun was lower in the sky and the day in the field was nearly over, thank the gods. He'd forgotten just how backbreaking of a job weeding the fields was. But at least it kept his mind from dwelling on other things.

Six days passed since he arrived back in Ealdor. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Della a few paces away. Word spread quickly enough that she wasn't tied to him, matrimonially speaking, and Mother helped clarify that she'd recently suffered the loss of her remaining family at the hands of the Saxons. The people kept a respectful distance and accepted her presence well enough, despite the whispers he knew occurred out of earshot.

She kept her head down, picking the weeds at a surprising pace. Even at this distance, he spotted her basket near to overflowing. She'd thrown herself headlong into working around the house and in the field. She was up before dawn and didn't seem to stop for more than a moment. _It's her way of coping with loss_ , he thought. But he worried she hadn't given herself adequate time to actually grieve.

Geralt, a fellow neighbor and childhood friend, lightly clamped him on the shoulder. It startled him out of his thoughts, which seemed to be focused more and more on Della lately.

"She's a pretty one, that friend of yours," he said. "I can tell you think so by the way you've looked at her throughout the day."

 _Have I really been doing that_? "I just want to make sure she's all right is all," he replied, brushing the dirt off his hands. "She's been through a lot."

"We all know that part of the story by now, old friend," Geralt said. "Anyway, what kind of man wouldn't like to look at her every once in awhile?" He winked.

"I'm sure your wife would love to hear you say that," Merlin said, trying to keep a feeling between irritation and something too close to jealousy at bay.

Geralt shrugged. "Seeing as she's got the third child of mine growing within her, she's got no worries." He chuckled seeing Merlin's face turn red. "You spent your youth chasing after the king of yours, while the rest of us got settled. Perhaps it's time for you to settle down, too."

 _I did more than chase after him, you prat._ Merlin bit back the retort, knowing he couldn't very well tell him the truth. Geralt always had a habit of teasing him well past the point of annoyance.

Geralt patted him once more on the back. "Just consider it. If you don't, I know a few others here that will."

 _I doubt that._ Della left Edward behind, someone who cared for her—loved her even. But he remembered what she told him back in Havenswood. _I could never keep a secret like this from my spouse._ He understood that too well.

He pushed the conversation with Geralt aside as he gathered up his basket and walked over to Della, who was still bent over, grabbing a stubborn weed at its base. Her cheeks were red with exertion and the light freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks seemed to have multiplied in the past few days with her time in the fields.

"You've been hard at work," he teased.

She stood up and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a small smudge of dirt. "Have I?" she asked as she looked at her basket, then at his. "I didn't notice." She picked up her basket and sifted through the pink flowers of the corncockles. "The more herbs and weeds I gather, the faster I can replenish my tinctures and the sooner I can stop imposing on you and your mother."

"You're not imposing," Merlin said. He wished he could get that through to her but she was so fiercely independent. "You can stay as long as you need. You've been working yourself to the bone almost since the moment we arrived and I—" he paused, making sure the remaining villagers were far enough away, "I'm just concerned for you. You've barely let yourself grieve or—"

"I'm fine, Merlin," Della said firmly. "How many times have I told you to stop worrying about me?"

"Plenty," he said. "But you know I never listen." He grinned, hoping to lighten the tension.

It worked. She gave him a small smile back. "Yes, I know that all too well." They started back towards the village through the green knee-high stalks of wheat. Scattered red poppy flowers dotted the field and blew gently in the evening breeze. "So. How's that teleportation spell going?"

He groaned. "Not well." He started practicing the spell three nights ago, out in the woods, with very little progress. "I can conjure up the start of the spell, the whirlwind part, and I feel myself starting to—" he couldn't find the words to describe disappearing into thin air. "Move? But then it stops and I find myself just feet away from where I started." He sighed. "Perhaps I'm remembering the spell wrong. I wish I still had my grimoire to see if I was right. I feel like I'm missing something." He'd read over the spell many times throughout the years but hadn't the time to actually practice it adequately.

Della was silent for a moment. She chewed her bottom lip, something he recognized when she was thinking. "What are the main aspects of the spell?" She asked. "I may not be able to help but I can try."

"Well, one normally needs a source of magical energy to draw the power from, like an amulet or other object, but I've been able to draw it from the earth, at least to conjure the whirlwind. Perhaps I do need an enchanted object."

Della shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "You're magic incarnate, are you not? I think that's more than sufficient."

He supposed that could be true. "I also know that the spell only works if it's a place the caster has been before," he said. "You have to envision it as if you're already there. Or at least that's what I've been doing." He shook his head. "I've cleared my thoughts as much as possible, I've tried variations on the wording, and nothing."

She paused and stopped in the front of the cottage, something akin to revelation crossing her features. "What if you're skipping a step?" she asked.

He thought back to the spell book again, but was unable to remember. "I'm not sure what that would be."

"Well, think of the spell similar to undertaking a journey," she said. "When you start out, you plan the path ahead—or least have a vague idea of the roads you'll take to get there. If not, you end up lost and someplace else entirely. Perhaps you need to envision traveling there, like you were actually along a road."

He thought about the simple logic and it was like the spell suddenly became clear. "That has to be it," he said. "I was forgetting one of the main aspects of the spell." He smiled sadly. "You reminded me of Gaius just now." A momentary melancholy washed over him, thinking about him back in Camelot—and the as of yet unfinished letter.

"I'm not nearly as wise as he would be," Della said quickly. "It's all just speculation on my part. Remember, I'm mostly cursed with visions."

"You aren't cursed," Merlin said. He wished he could make her believe how gifted she was. "You underestimate your own skill. I've seen you cast a powerful fire spell and watched you heal a serious wound in your leg while you struggled with the pain from several broken ribs. That takes an immense level of concentration. With more practice, I'm sure you can master other spells."

"Maybe someday," Della said, though unconvincingly. She put her basket down on the bench outside the cottage door. "You mentioned Gaius just now. How is the writing coming?"

"I've started," he said, unconsciously scratching the back of his head in anxiety. "I…just haven't gotten past the "Dear" part."

Della crossed her arms. "You know, your mother's going to ask you about it again too. She'll not let you push this aside so easily. Nor will I for that matter."

"I know, I know," he said. "I've been so busy focusing on it that I haven't really had the chance to sit down and think about what to say yet."

Della relaxed her arms and posture. "Do you promise to write them tonight?"

He nodded. "I won't back out again. I'll get them done when I come back. I promise."

She smiled and he realized how much he enjoyed it when she did. "All right. I'll hold you to that."

He smirked. "And how will you do that?"

"Oh I don't know," she said, with a smirk of her own. "The honey is looking low."

He laughed at her cheeky comment. "Ouch. You sure know how to hit where it hurts." He patted his stomach.

"Then that should be motivation enough," she said. "Speaking of supper, I should probably head in and help Hunith."

She started to move away and before he could think, he blurted out, "Come with me. You can help me with the spell. I'm sure Mother can make supper tonight."

She looked confused and he wondered why he asked that. "I'm not sure how my presence will help. Wouldn't I be a distraction?"

He scrambled for a reason more than just a dislike for watching her walk off. "I think you might actually help me focus." She still looked hesitant and he continued. "Knowing that there's someone there at the end of the journey waiting for me is more incentive than picturing a moss-covered rock or a fallen tree."

Her cheeks turned pink and he realized the request made her uneasy. He inwardly cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke. "If you're uncomfortable I understand."

"It's not that I don't want to," she said just as quickly. "I'd love to help you. But entering the woods together at nightfall might look a little questionable. I just want to be careful not to give the villagers any fuel for gossip."

"Ah, yeah," he said, embarrassed for not thinking of that. After the conversation he had with Geralt, it would definitely look like…well, he knew where most people's minds would wander. "I don't want to hurt your reputation. I've done that once already."

"Merlin," she said, "That's not—"

"It's all right," he said, forcing a smile. He didn't want to remind her anymore of everything that went wrong in Havenswood. "I'm going to head out to the forest now. Tell Mother I'll be back before it's too late. Save some of your stew for me, will you?"

The cheerful demeanor she had before dissipated and she looked hurt at his terse ending of the conversation. "Of course."

He turned and headed for the woods, berating himself for making it tense between them. Again. He had an uncanny habit of doing that.

What had he been thinking, asking her that? He knew the answer but it left him uncertain: he enjoyed being around her. And that in itself left him feeling vulnerable.

He was finding it increasingly harder to quell the burgeoning feelings. He shook his head and sighed. He'd only known her a little more than a week. _But you fell for Freya in less than half that time._ He swore to himself after that to be more careful in guarding his heart, and it had worked for years. But Della was different. She was the first person he knew who had nearly as big of a burden upon her as he did, the first person who really could understand. Perhaps that was why he felt the bond between them was strong. That and the trauma of the past week.

His mind flashed back to when he nearly kissed her the night they left Havenswood. He thought then that she had similar feelings. He remembered her leaning in ever so slightly before he convinced himself to pull back.

With each step, he convinced himself he was the only one who felt a deeper connection developing between them.

Merlin walked a little longer until he made it to the meadow where he'd been practicing the spell. It was far enough from the village that people wouldn't be out here close to nightfall, especially since they thought it was haunted, according to what Mother told him in letters. _Another thing tied to me_ , he thought. It was the same place years prior where Morgana's Southron army had been charred by Kilgharrah while in pursuit of Arthur.

He pushed the memory aside, clearing his head as much as possible in preparation for the spell. He thought of his destination, a stream bed about a mile away. He remembered what Della said: to try envisioning a path before him, like a road heading to his destination.

He took in a breath, gathering the magic from the earth around him, feeling it infuse his soul until he was nearly one with his surroundings. " _Ic bedyrne un astýre."_

The whirlwind started slowly at his feet until it surrounded him. The path before him was clear and immediately, he felt himself propelled forward in a surge of wind. The shock of such a sensation nearly broke his concentration but he maintained his focus. The surroundings blurred around him like a dark and hazy afterthought. Suddenly, he saw the small creek valley before him through the wind and haze.

The whirlwind ceased faster than he anticipated, sending his senses scrambling to figure out his new surroundings. He fell on his left arm with a harsh thump onto the forest floor, letting out a cry as he felt pain surge through his forearm, mind still spinning.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, cringing at the sting in his arm. It didn't feel broken but the impact of the landing would certainly leave an unsightly bruise. But at least he'd made it to his destination if not a little less gracefully than expected. Now he just needed to figure out how to not look like a toddler just learning how to walk.

He shook off the pain and got to his feet. His legs were unsteady from the amount of energy used to cast the spell. Having an enchanted object would likely remedy that, but he would have to be content using himself as the conduit. He focused on practicing again.

By the fifth time, he prepared his senses for the abrupt changes and the earlier queasiness disappeared. Emerging on the other end on two feet was still a challenge, especially as he grew weaker with each incantation, but by the last effort, he'd managed to find himself standing— albeit on shaky legs.

He took a deep breath and sat down, now lightheaded from the sheer amount of magic used. The exhaustion took over and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes.

Then he remembered the promise he'd given Della about the letters. He groaned, realizing that he wouldn't be able to push it off another night. She would make good on her own promise and eating plain gruel for every meal was not appetizing.

Did he have enough energy left to teleport back the two miles to the edge of Ealdor? The thought of walking all that way on such little energy was stimulus enough for him to try.

He thought of the ridge on the edge of the village—too much closer might draw attention and he hadn't quite figured out if there was a way to dampen the noise of the spell.

" _Ic bedyrne un astýre_." His stomach growled as the whirlwind encircled him and he thought of Della back at the cottage, helping to prepare supper. He smiled in anticipation.

The ethereal road ahead suddenly shifted and he felt as if he was yanked by a string in another direction. _What the hell-_

Before he could figure out just what was going on, the blur of his surroundings cleared and he suddenly saw figures of two women ahead of him—that of his mother and Della.

Through the haze, he watched as they looked in his direction, shock on both their faces. The whirlwind dropped him on the floor of the cottage, just as ungracefully as the first time, though this time he felt himself propelled forward as he landed on his knees.

His vision cleared completely and he didn't miss the surprise on Della's face—and the anger on his mother's.

He knew that look all too well.

"Merlin, how many times have I told you—"

"No magic in the house," he continued. "I didn't do this on purpose." Another phrase he'd uttered a hundred times over his childhood. He stood up and brushed off his knees.

Mother's anger softened but she was still stern. "You're well past the age of knowing better," she said. "I thought you had better control."

"I do," he said. "I just—" He thought back to what happened. His head was clear—and then it wasn't. He'd thought of Della the split second before the whirlwind transported him. That was—unexpected. "I didn't clear my head as well as I thought." He said quickly. Now he was even more confused on the aspects of the spell. Why had it worked that way? "It won't happen again. I promise. And I'm sorry."

Hunith gave him a small smile and came up to hug him. "I know. Just be careful, all right? Just be thankful there aren't many people out right now. The sound of that wind nearly made my ears pop." She walked back over to the table and set out the bowls.

He walked over and sat down on the bench and sighed. Della came over to ladle out some stew and the smell made his stomach growl again. "Looks like you've mastered teleportation now. Well...except the landing part." She bit back a smile.

"Almost," he said. He wasn't about to bring up the confusion of the last time, why it had suddenly shifted mid-stream. He didn't want to admit to her she was the last thing he thought of right before landing in a heap on the cottage floor. "Your advice earlier helped. Thank you."

She beamed before setting the bowl down and taking her seat across from him. "Will you follow through on your promise now?"

"Yes," he said. "Or else this will be my last good supper from you." He brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth and savored the taste, his mind still pondering what happened with the spell. Could thinking about someone transport you to the spot where they were? He didn't know such a thing was possible with that spell; he would've remembered that important detail if that was the case. But that had to be partially why.

If ever there was a time he missed Gaius' wisdom, now was it. And the thought of telling Della about his theory made his cheeks burn. He'd have to figure out why it happened on his own.

* * *

Della stifled a yawn as she listened to the sound of the rain on the roof. It was mid-morning but the day was overcast and rainy, confining them to the house. She refocused on mending the arrow hole in her old dress, the only evidence left of the attack that had changed her life forever. That and a now noticeable scar on her upper thigh.

Hunith noticed her display of drowsiness. "You should've slept in today," she said. "I heard you toss and turn throughout the night."

Della shook her head. "I can't sleep past dawn," she said. "Even if I'm up most of the night." She looked over at the end of the room where Merlin was still asleep. True to his promise, he'd written the letters. She sat under her blanket, listening as he occasionally mumbled to himself in frustration. She imagined how hard it was for him to say goodbye to those he cared about.

"You haven't slept well since you arrived," Hunith said. "And you've been working so hard throughout the day. You should take some time to rest."

She shook her head again. "I have to keep busy. Or else I'll think too much on things I wish I could forget."

"I understand," Hunith said, "I was the same right after Merlin's father left." Hunith looked over to the end of the room where Merlin was still sleeping. "But it's natural to grieve. It's the only way you'll be able to truly move on."

"Merlin voiced similar concern yesterday," she admitted.

"He's concerned for you, as am I," Hunith said.

Della kept her eyes focused on her sewing, swallowing the lump that rose in her throat. "I'm afraid if I let myself think about it, I'll never be able to emerge. It…it happened once before, and I nearly died from the pain." She quickly wiped away the tear that escaped down her cheek. "It's best this way."

Hunith sighed softly but said nothing more. Della appreciated her concern—and Merlin's—but she wouldn't let herself go down that road again. _Move forward and move on_ , she told herself.

Della pushed the thoughts aside and continued mending. She was so focused that she jumped at the sound of Merlin's voice coming from behind her.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was still groggy from sleep.

"It's nearly afternoon now," Hunith said from her chair.

"Sorry for sleeping so late," he said. "I was up most of the night writing." Della could feel him looking at her. "But they're done now."

She smiled, grateful that she wouldn't have to make good on her threat from yesterday.

"Good," Hunith said. "A messenger from Engerd comes through once every fortnight. The last one stopped by the day before you came home, so in another week—"

"I'm taking them to Camelot today," Merlin said. Della looked up and over at him in surprise and from Hunith's silence, she must've felt the same.

Della found her words first. "I thought you never wanted to go back," she said.

"I'm only going back long enough to leave the letters and then I'm teleporting back," Merlin said. "I thought about it most of the night and rather than wait for a messenger, I figured I could use my new ability to get this done and over with. Then I can say goodbye to that part of my life once and for all." He looked down for a moment at his hands and Della saw a muscle in his jaw quiver.

"But won't someone notice you teleport in?" Hunith asked.

Merlin looked back up, resolve in his eyes. "I've planned it out," he said. "I'll teleport to my old room. Gaius goes on his afternoon rounds right after lunch and visits the market mid-week—which is today," Merlin said. "He'll be gone for hours, giving me plenty of time to arrive and leave before anyone noticed I was ever there."

"But Camelot is so far," Della said. "Wouldn't traveling that distance take a great deal of energy? Would you have enough to come back?" She saw how drained he was at supper last night—so much so that his hands quivered while he ate.

Merlin shrugged. "I can manage it."

Della and Hunith exchanged glances and she didn't have to read her mind to see Hunith's hesitance.

Merlin noticed their silent exchange. "Nice to see you both have faith in me." He stood up from the table and went over to the peg on the wall where his travel bag was. "I'll find something to eat along the way. I should be back within the hour. You'll see." He left out the door without another word.

Hunith sighed. "I fear this will not be as easy as he thinks."

"It rarely is," Della said. How many times had she seen him in her visions rush impulsively into something and have a poor outcome in the end? She felt the same as Hunith but there was nothing much she could do. One thing she knew about Merlin over the years of her visions was that when he was set on doing something, nothing would stop him.

Della turned her attention back to her mending. Not three more stitches into her work came a frantic knock at the door.

Hunith stood up and walked over to the door. She opened it and a young woman rushed in. The woman absentmindedly wiped the wet strands of her white blonde hair from her forehead. "Hunith, I need your help. My little boy..." she broke into hysterical sobs.

Della was immediately alert. She put her mending down and walked over, but maintained a respectful distance from the stranger.

"Ceridwen, you need to take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong," Hunith said, bracing the woman's shoulders. Her voice was calm but firm. "What's wrong with Owen?"

Ceridwen took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks with her hand. "Two nights ago he lost his appetite. He threw up and...and had other stomach issues. I wasn't worried then as he's had such illnesses before and recovered quickly. But he was sick all day yesterday and late last night, he was so lethargic and out of it I couldn't get him to talk coherently. He wouldn't rouse this morning. I...I went to Old Mistress Nerys who came over this morning and said it was mushroom poisoning and there's nothing more to do."

"Mistress Nerys is wise in healing arts," Hunith said. "If she says that's so then —"

Ceridwen glanced over at Della and then back to Hunith, biting her lip. "I remembered hearing that Della here was a healer in her old village. I thought...I thought that maybe..."

"I'll do what I can to help," Della said, without hesitation.

"Oh thank you!" Ceridwen said, taking her hands in hers, relief washing over her.

Della gave her a small smile and squeezed her hands. "I don't want you to get your hopes up just yet," she said. "Mistress Nerys is likely correct. But I can try."

"That's all that I ask," Ceridwen said. "Owen is all I have left and I…" she brought her hand back up to her mouth and started crying again. "I'm willing to try anything."

Della saw Hunith's hesitation out of the corner of her eye. She knew what was crossing her mind—likely the same as hers. _Magic may be the only way now to save the boy._ But could she do it? Was she strong enough—brave enough to chance it?

 _Merlin, I wish you were here right now._ She knew he wouldn't hesitate even for a moment. She needed the reassurance that she would be making the right choice if it came to it.

"Let me get my medicine case," Della said, walking over to where she'd stored what she brought from Havenswood. She opened it, checking its contents. Yes, she'd brought the milk thistle and fennel tonic. But it may not be enough now.

Della followed Hunith and Ceridwen out of the cottage and into the rain. Ceridwen's cottage was just two houses down from theirs and they were there quickly.

They entered the small cottage and Della saw where a little boy no older than four years was on a small cot on the floor. An old woman sat on a stool next to him, her white and wispy hair pulled back in a loose braid. She turned to see who entered and Della was immediately met with a scowl. "I thought you were just bringing Hunith," she said, dark green eyes giving her a once over.

"This is Della, Mistress," Ceridwen said. "She was a healer in her old village."

" _Was_ being the key word there," the old woman said.

Della clenched her jaw. She had a right mind to put this old biddy in her place but decided that would not be the best course of action.

Hunith spoke up for her instead. "It will not hurt Owen for Della to look at him."

"Fine, fine," Nerys said, waving her hand dismissively as she got up from her spot on the stool. "But there's nothing to be done for him, like I told Ceridwen. The poison has taken too much toll on him already."

Della ignored the woman and sat on the stool, studying the little boy. His skin had a yellow tint to it. She gently put her hands on his abdomen and felt the swelling. _Not a good sign._ She gently opened one of his eyes and saw the whites were yellow as well. His organs were failing rapidly. Nerys was correct in her assessment of the boy: the poison had already done too much damage for him to be saved.

 _But he's not dead yet. You can still save him._ That's what Merlin would tell her. _You underestimate your own power._ Hadn't he told her that just yesterday?

But did she? Could she even remember the spells needed to help heal little Owen? Ealhwyn secretly used such spells once or twice before on unsuspecting victims but she never had. _I have to try._

She took a steadying breath, resolve growing within her. If she were to do this, Ceridwen and Nerys needed to be gone. She wasn't practiced enough to incant the spell wordlessly like her aunt had.

Della stood up and went to the table in the middle of the room. She opened her medicine case and pulled out a vial of light yellow liquid. "I'm going to try giving him a tonic of milk thistle and fennel," Della said with as much confidence as she could muster. "Both are known to help counteract mushroom poisoning."

A sound of disgust came from Nerys. "Are you daft, girl? It's much too late for that. Perhaps if the boy had been given the tonic this time yesterday, there would've been a small chance."

"I'm not 'daft'," Della said. "This concoction has worked before in patients further gone than him." That was a bit of a lie, since magic was involved, but Nerys didn't need to know that.

"Bah," Nerys did her dismissive hand gesture again. "Ceridwen, this girl here gives you false hope."

"Better that than none at all," Ceridwen replied. She turned towards Della. "Please, can you give him the tonic?"

"I'm not going to stand by and watch this fool's folly," Nerys said.

"Then you are more than welcome to leave, Mistress," Hunith said in a calm yet firm voice. "Thank you for your help." She locked eyes with Nerys, an unspoken challenge in her demeanor.

Nerys' nostrils flared in anger but she said nothing more to anyone as she left the cottage in a huff.

Ceridwen took a shaky breath. "She'll not forgive me for going against her," she said.

"Do not worry about that now," Hunith replied. "We need to focus on helping Owen recover."

While Hunith continued to assure Ceridwen, Della pulled out a smaller vial of light brown powder marked "sleeping draught" in Ealhwyn's handwriting. Ceridwen would not willingly take it on her own, nor would she if put in a similar situation. She or Hunith would need to covertly pour it in a drink. Drugging the poor woman without her knowledge did not sit well with Della, but it was the only way she could attempt to use her magic to heal Owen.

Ceridwen sat next to Owen, rubbing his small hand. Hunith looked over at Della who motioned her to come over. She showed her the sleeping draught and without a word, Hunith nodded and took the vial. She calmly walked over and poured a cup of water. In one swift and smooth motion, the contents of the vial were emptied into the cup.

Hunith made her way back to Ceridwen. "Here, dear," she said.

"Thank you," Ceridwen said, looking up from her son's face. She took three long sips of water and handed the cup back to Hunith.

The draught took effect within moments. Ceridwen was bent over her son in slumber, still holding his hand.

Hunith helped Della gently slide the stool with Ceridwen's sleeping form to the end of the cot. Once she was situated, Della brought another stool over from the other end of the room and grabbed the thistle tonic. It was time to begin.

First, she needed to stop the continuing damage from the poison. This would be the easier of the spells needed to heal the boy. She took the vial and incanted the spell for the antidote in as low a voice as possible.

" _Hailige áttor."_

The potion in the vial glowed for a moment before it faded back to its normal color. Della opened the cork and propped Owen against her arm. She wouldn't be able to keep his mouth open and pour the liquid in at the same time. "Hunith?" She called. "Can you give me a hand?

Hunith walked over. "Of course."

"I need you to pour the potion in his mouth for me," she said. She handed her the bottle and gently opened Owen's mouth. "Ready?"

Hunith nodded and poured the liquid into Owen's mouth. Della shut his jaw and tilted his head backward, hoping his instinctual reflex to swallow would work. She held her breath, ready to call on more magic if needed. Within a moment, she watched the small muscles in his throat work the liquid down.

"That will counteract any more damage from the poison," Della said. "Now comes the hardest part: healing the damage that's been done." She pushed back a strand of loose hair from her face nervously. "I wish Merlin were back. I know he could do this."

Hunith put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I believe you can do this, too.

Della nodded and reached back to squeeze Hunith's hand in thanks. "All right. Here goes everything I have."

Hunith let go of her shoulder as she took a deep breath. Her stomach was tense and her nerves on edge. Unlike elemental magic, which hummed and vibrated as constant as a bee's hive and was easier to sense, healing spells were as delicate and intricate as a spider's web. And much like a web, the strands of magic used were fine and easily tangled. It would take every bit of her focus and fortitude to weave those strands together properly and use it to heal Owen's dying organs.

She placed her hands lightly on Owen's swollen stomach and focused on trying to assess the damage done by the poison. It was not hard to find; it pricked the edge of her consciousness like a needles under her skin.

The energy gathered around her as fine but as strong as strands of rope. Her muscles tensed and body hummed as she used every bit of concentration to weave the spell together. She sensed each strand forming under her fingertips. The words of the ancient spell floated to the front of her mind and to her lips.

" _Áwefan innanwund, þurhhæle licsare."_

The strength of the spell startled her as the power flowed through her and towards her hands. Her focus was broken for the briefest of moments and the strands of the spell tangled together much as she feared they would.

Her hands shook from the effort of the spell. She only had enough strength to try once more. If it failed this time…

 _You can do this, Della._ She thought of Ceridwen, asleep at the foot of the bed, still clinging to hope; of Hunith, who had unwavering faith in her; and of Merlin, whose words of encouragement still echoed in her heart.

She refocused her energy, channeling every bit she had towards Owen. "" _Áwefan innanwund, þurhhæle licsare!"_ She almost didn't recognize her own voice as she said the words, imbuing life into each syllable.

Gradually, the prickling on the edge of her mind eased as she wove the strands together again, as it coalesced and flowed through her fingers and into Owen's body. The swelling lessened, the yellow pall of his skin faded back to normal as she felt the poison dissipate with each breath. She struggled to maintain the magical energy as she tried to keep her arms steady. With each breath, she felt herself growing weaker and her own consciousness fade. _Stay strong. Keep going._ _Just a moment longer._...

Owen's eyelids fluttered and he let out a long, deep sigh and stirred in his sleep. "Ma…ma."

Della removed her hands, now shaking from exhaustion. Her arms tingled from the aftereffects of the spell. Relief washed through her seeing the once deathly ill boy beginning to make a full recovery.

"You did it, Della," Hunith said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She wrapped an arm around her and drew her into an embrace. "I knew you could do it. If Merlin were here, he'd be proud of you too."

And for the first time in awhile, Della actually saw her magic as a gift instead of a curse.

* * *

 **A/N:** Longest chapter yet :) I know it took a little longer than the 2 weeks I promised, but for good reason. I hope you all enjoyed this magic heavy chapter. It was my favorite one to write.

Thanks again to **Requiem17** for making Della's arc a little more cohesive in this chapter and **Jewelsmg** for suggesting I change the scene up with the sleeping draught. It works much better that way! :)

And as always thanks to my faithful readers and reviewers!


	11. Consequences Be Damned

It didn't take long for Merlin to regret leaving the cottage in the mood he was in. By the time he neared the forest line, he had half convinced himself to turn back and apologize. That and he was annoyed at himself for leaving without grabbing even the smallest morsel of bread. He feared their doubts about his journey would be closer to the truth now.

But he was determined to get this task done _today._ Then he could face his new future. _Future doing what_? Could he go back to the life he knew before destiny intervened?

Merlin walked a few paces into the woods and stopped behind a large oak, making certain none of the villagers were out and about. Confident he was alone, he cleared his thoughts and began the spell.

He envisioned his old room, conjuring the image in his mind. He focused on the path ahead—through the valleys and the meadows, along the well-worn muddy forest paths, past the stone walls of Camelot's outer wall, through the Lower Town and finally into the citadel.

" _Ic bedyrne un astýre_." The whirlwind formed around him. It moved quickly but maintaining it required a greater focus and strength. Because of the sheer distance—two days ride or three days walk on foot—the spell required more of him than he anticipated. He felt the energy ebb off him as it fused into the earth around him, the surroundings blurring into a green hazy mist as he went forward towards Camelot.

He wasn't sure how much time passed—certainly not longer than a few minutes, but more than his jumps in the woods in Ealdor—but he sensed he was near as the familiar surroundings of his home in Camelot came into view.

He landed upright and without stumbling in the center of the room. His arrival caused a mess though; papers from the desk along the wall were strewn about the room and the edge of his white woolen blanket on the bed disheveled. He stood still, holding his breath, waiting to hear if Gaius would charge through the door.

Another moment passed and Merlin let out his breath. He had been right. Gaius was out on his rounds. Now, all he needed to do was grab his grimoire and leave the letters some place they would be found—and head out without anyone noticing.

Merlin took a look around his room, a stab of regret coursing through his chest. He never would've thought journeying to the Crystal Cave with Gwaine would have set him on course to leave Camelot.

He knelt down and pulled away the loose floorboard from underneath his bed—something he'd done a thousand times before. He pulled out the grimoire and sighed. He'd learned so much from this book over the years—and still had room to learn more. He hesitated for a moment about bringing it back with him, but this was a familiar comfort he didn't wish to do without.

He placed the grimoire down as he readied to replace the floorboard. As he did, his eye caught the corner of a smaller leather tome. Curious, he pulled it out and brushed off the fine layer of dust on its cover. The name _Gwillem of Mercia_ was legible on the cover and he immediately remembered it was the small healing guide which held the spell that he attempted to use to heal Uther.

Merlin recalled hastily hiding it beneath the floor, determined never to set his sight on it again. It was a reminder of yet another failure—one in which he further set Arthur against magic.

He nearly put it back, but then thought of Della back in Ealdor. Even if she couldn't necessarily use some of the spell portions, surely it could be helpful in other ways. And, he wanted to thank her in some way for helping him with figuring out the aspects of teleportation.

Perhaps hiding that book all those years ago paid off after all.

He put the small book in his bag next to the grimoire and replaced the floorboard. He stood and glanced around the room, looking to see if there was anything else to bring with him. The lone carved figure of a dragon-the only reminder of his father-remained on his nightstand. He sighed and walked over and placed the dragon figure in his bag.

As he looked up from closing the flap, he caught sight of small leather pouch on the corner of his desk. The coins he won from Arthur at the tavern on that one last night of camaraderie. All the grief and pain of the last weeks came flooding forward again. He went over and picked up one of the silver coins, rubbing the surface with his thumb. The tears flowed freely now, and he quickly wiped them with his other hand.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. Sorry for so much." He clutched the coin in his fist, trying his best to dull the sharp ache in his chest. So many times he'd managed to save him—except the one time it mattered most.

He reached over to place the coin back but hesitated. Thoughts flickered back to that night and he focused on the happier aspects of that time—and all the other times when life was full of promise and hope. Perhaps this single coin could serve as a reminder not of his failure, but of the bond he and Arthur shared—and the bond he still had with him despite the divide of life and death.

He put the coin in his jacket pocket and picked up the pouch. The remaining money would help ease the struggle of village life, at least for a little while. He tossed the pouch in his bag and sighed, ready to do his last task.

He opened the door and made his way down the stairs into the main chamber. His eyes surveyed the room, looking for a good spot to put the letters where they would be noticed. The room was more disorganized than normal; books were scattered about on various tables. The small kitchen area where Gaius prepared food was cluttered with dishes. He suddenly realized how much of his job had been to help keep the place at least partially organized and a wave of guilt ran through him.

If he was quick, he could straighten up the area before he left. Gaius would already know he'd been by with the sudden appearance of his letters, so what harm would tidying up a bit do?

Wordlessly, he focused on the kitchen area and set to work cleaning. It took a bit more concentration than normal on the low energy he had from teleporting all the way from Ealdor, but magic like this was second nature to him. He was uncertain about putting the books away in case Gaius was using them, so he focused on stacking them neatly instead.

He was in the middle of putting away some of the tonics on Gaius' apothecary shelf when he noticed the door open out of the corner of his eye. He had no time to react as his heart stopped at the sight of his mentor.

Gaius made it a few steps in the door before he noticed him. His mouth opened slightly in shock. "Merlin!" He walked up to him as quickly as his old bones would let him and pulled him into a surprisingly tight hug.

"How long have you been here?" Gaius said, finally letting Merlin breathe again.

Merlin swallowed. "Not more than a half an hour."

Gaius looked at him with that arched eyebrow of his. "Where have you been these past few weeks? Everyone's been worried about you!"

"I went back to Ealdor," Merlin said.

"And you couldn't write a letter letting us know you were safe?" Gaius said.

"Well...I did," Merlin said. He pulled the letters out of his bag. "I planned on leaving these here for you and Gwen." He handed him the letters. Gaius gave them a cursory glance and set them on a nearby table.

"How did you get up here without anyone noticing?"

Merlin nervously rubbed his forehead. "I...um...teleported."

"Ah," Gaius nodded with a look of realization. "You finally mastered it." His eyes caught sight of the bag still slung over his shoulder. "I take it you aren't staying." His voice was matter-of-fact but held an edge of sadness and disappointment.

"I can't, Gaius," Merlin said. "It's too...painful. Everything here reminds me of my failure. Arthur is gone and I have no purpose. At least no longer in Camelot."

"Merlin," There was the ever familiar tone he was accustomed to. "You always have a purpose here." This was exactly why he endeavored to come _without_ being seen. "If anything, Camelot needs you now more than ever."

"I highly doubt that," Merlin said. "I was just a servant who followed Arthur's beck and call. Now, there's no need for a manservant when there's no king to serve." The words stabbed at him as he said it. "Besides, they never knew they _needed_ me to begin with."

"Well, they do now," Gaius said.

Merlin looked at him in confusion, his heart pounding in his ears. "What do you mean?"

Gaius sighed. "Gwen knows you have magic. She pieced it together after Camlann. And a few others discovered it on their own too."

"Who else?"

"Sir Leon and Sir Percival. They realized who you were after coming back from a village near Avalon. The villagers described the sorcerer in enough detail for them to realize it was you."

 _Damn._ He remembered seeing them on the road in that direction but it never crossed his mind that they might discover his course they'd figure it out from there. "What about Gwaine?" He asked. "Did they tell him, too?"

Gaius looked away from him and his stomach clenched. "Gaius...what about Gwaine?" By the gods, if something happened to him—

"Gwaine is dead, Merlin."

"No!" The force of the news was as strong as if he'd been punched in the gut. Pain rippled through him anew and he couldn't think straight. He sank down heavily on his knees. _Look after yourself Merlin. I hope you find what you're looking for._ The last words Gwaine said to him after they parted ways. Another dear friend, lost to death—lost because of the choices he made.

Gaius sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Gwaine went with Percival after Morgana. She used the Nathair on him."

"That's how she found us en route to Avalon then," Merlin said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "She was going to kill Arthur and—

"You killed her first," Gaius said. "Percival found her dead. You brought peace to Camelot."

 _You've brought peace at last._ Some of Arthur's last words. "But too late for so many," Merlin said. Much, much too late. By the gods, it was a terrible mistake coming back here.

"I've stayed too long already," Merlin said, standing up and fighting back even more tears.

Gaius nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing. He knew the look of disappointment in his mentor's demeanor.

"You weren't even supposed to see me," Merlin said. "I meant to leave those letters without being seen."

Gaius stood up. "Where are you headed?"

"Back to Ealdor," Merlin said. "If you need to contact me, I'll be there. At least for now."

Gaius nodded and took a step towards him, drawing him into another embrace. "Take care, my boy." He said. His voice was unsteady and Merlin knew if he didn't leave now, he never would.

"I will," Merlin said, returning the hug. He pulled back and looked into Gaius' eyes, which shone with the light of unshed tears. "Thank you. For everything you've taught me, everything you've helped me achieve. I wouldn't be who I am today without your guidance and support."

Gaius nodded. "I am honored to have been a part of your life, Merlin. You will always be the son I never had."

Merlin swallowed back the sob that threatened to emerge and nodded. He couldn't get any more words to form, not without succumbing to the tears, so he gave Gaius one last sad smile and backed away.

He uttered the words of the spell and the whirlwind slowly formed around him. "Goodbye Gaius," he called over the sound of the increasing wind.

Merlin's heart sank when he caught one last glimpse of Gaius through the haze. He struggled to focus on his destination as the edges of grief threatened to overtake him.

Then, a blur of Camelot's gates and the cloudy green of forest, but Merlin could not keep the path in sight. The heartache was too much, and he didn't have the energy.

He landed in a meadow just outside Camelot and collapsed underneath his sorrow. His old mentor, the man he'd often considered a father, had finally broken—because of him.

The final image of Gaius crying would remain with him for as long as he lived.

* * *

"Why is Mama sleepy?"

Della pulled out of Hunith's embrace and looked at little Owen. The color was rapidly returning to his cheeks and he stared at his mother, who was still asleep at the foot of his cot.

Della couldn't find the words but Hunith took over. She sat down on the bed next to Owen and talked to him as gently as only a mother could. "She's been taking care of you, dear one. She'll be up soon. You've been asleep a long time. Are you hungry?"

Owen chewed his lip and nodded. He looked over Hunith's shoulder, his green eyes studying Della. She suddenly felt nervous, even though the child was no more than five years old. Children always made her a little uncomfortable. "Who is that lady right there?" He asked.

Hunith smiled. "That's my friend, Della. She helped make you feel better."

Owen still stared at her but this time, he smiled shyly. "My belly _really_ hurt and now it doesn't! It's like magic."

Della's smile froze on her face. "I'm very glad for that, Owen. But it wasn't magic. Just a few plants that helped you." She said it but wondered how many—if any—would believe that. The fear of how she healed him surged forward. Had she already jeopardized her fate here?

Owen turned his attention back to Hunith. "Can I have some food now, please?" He asked. "I would like some cheese. Or some soup."

"Of course," Hunith said. "Would you like to come with me to get it?"

Owen nodded, his blonde curls bouncing as he got up and took Hunith's hand. Della was grateful for Hunith already anticipating her needing Owen distracted while she used one last spell to wake up Ceridwen. There was a simple spell for that and though she was weak beyond imagining, she was certain she could conjure up the magic needed.

Hunith walked over to prepare Owen's food and Della knelt on the floor next to Ceridwen, gently placing her hand on her forehead. " _Árísan."_

Della removed her hand as Ceridwen stirred. Slowly, her eyes blinked open. Ceridwen saw the empty bed in front of her and immediately sat up. "Owen? Where—" She turned towards the sound of Owen's voice where he stood with Hunith.

"Mama!" Owen came running across the room the moment he saw his mother awake, a small chunk of cheese in his hand. He wiggled his way into her lap. "Look! Hunith got me some cheese!"

Ceridwen's face was a mask of confusion and relief as she cried. She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his forehead, brushing a hand through his hair. "Oh, my darling. I'm so glad you're alright."

"Mama, why are you crying?" Owen asked as he put a small hand on her cheek. "Don't be sad."

Ceridwen smiled and wiped her tears away with a quick brush of her hand. "I'm not sad, my brave boy. These are happy tears. You were very sick and Mama is happy you aren't any more."

Owen took a small bite of his cheese. "My friend Della made me all better," he said, looking over at Della and smiling.

"And I'm very thankful for that," Ceridwen said. Her voice was unsteady and she looked at Della, the questions still evident in her eyes. "Come now, let's take your cheese to the table. That's where we eat, remember?" She walked with Owen back to the table as he resignedly sat on the bench.

Della busied herself with tidying her medicine case, sudden fatigue from earlier catching up. She pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and stay awake. It would only bring more questions if she passed out here on the dirt floor.

After Ceridwen had gotten Owen settled, she walked over to Della. She braced herself for Ceridwen's questions, ready for any and all possible accusations.

"You are a miracle worker," Ceridwen said. "I fell asleep and Owen was on the verge of death. I wake up and he's just as rambunctious as ever."

Della nodded. "He took to the cure very well," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and avoiding Ceridwen's gaze. "He's an exceptionally strong little boy."

"He is, but..." she stopped and lowered her voice. "I've never known a simple herb remedy to do that. It's like there was something...else."

"I don't know what you mean," Della said.

"I also fell asleep rather quickly after drinking that glass of water," Ceridwen said.

How could Della keep up this pretense? Even Owen had seen through it when he first woke up. Lying would just make this worse. "Ceridwen, I—"

Before she could say any more, Ceridwen wrapped her arms around her in a sudden and surprising hug. Della squeaked out a cry of surprise.

Ceridwen pulled back. "Don't say another word. Even if it's what I suspect, I wouldn't accuse you of any wrongdoing." She lowered her voice. "I know some believe that what you may or may not have done is evil, but I never have. And after today, I'd be the first person to defend you. You brought my son back from the edge of death. How can that be evil?"

Relief flooded through Della. She remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

Ceridwen seemed to understand though as she continued. "Anyway, there may be others who will feel otherwise. Mistress Nerys being one of them. She may cause a stir amongst the villagers."

Della nodded. "I know. I'll do my best to defend myself." A wave of exhaustion came over her and she wavered on her feet.

Ceridwen steadied her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Della nodded slightly as she sat on the stool next to the bed. "I'm just a little light-headed. Healing him took a great deal of concentration."

Hunith walked over at that moment. "I should take Della home to rest."

"I can make it back on my own," Della said.

"You nearly fell over a moment ago and I don't want you falling over in the mud. No more arguments." Hunith said. She helped Della stand and took her medicine case without a word, and Della saw just where Merlin got his determination from.

Ceridwen walked them to the door. "I really have no words for how grateful I am, Della," she said. She looked back at her son, who was happily gulping down some water. "You gave me back the only person I have left in the world."

"I know all too well what it's like to lose the last person you love to a sudden death. If I can spare someone from going through that pain, I will." But such a decision may very well ban her from her new home—or worse.

 _What's done is done_. The urge to sleep was so strong now that she needed to focus on getting back to the cottage without passing out along the way.

As she left Ceridwen's house with Hunith's gentle guidance, she looked back at Ceridwen and Owen. What a difference an hour had made...before, a mother was facing the reality of losing her only child; now, that little boy was as happy and as healthy as if nothing happened.

That sight made any consequence that may happen worth it.

* * *

It was still raining when Merlin arrived back in Ealdor. He'd spent a couple hours in the Darkling Woods, resting in a dense thicket and eating a particularly unsatisfying midday meal of river fish to try and regain some of his energy to teleport back. It took him three smaller "jumps" to get back, but at least he made it.

It was an exhausting day in more ways than he cared to consider. He was emotionally drained from his goodbye with Gaius. Not once in his nearly ten years in Camelot had he seen Gaius cry. A few times he'd come close, but the wise physician was stoic and resolute in even the toughest times.

Except today.

He pushed the thought aside as he approached the cottage. He prepared himself for both his mother and Della giving him those _I told you so_ looks. He should've listened to them earlier, taking his time to get to Camelot.

He entered the cottage, fully expecting immediate exclamations asking him what took so long. But it was incredibly quiet, the only sound coming from the wood cracking in the hearth.

Immediately, he saw Della curled up under her blanket on a cot, fast asleep. She never slept during the day. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" The words tumbled out as he quickly dropped his heavy bag and walked over to Della's cot and knelt on the floor. "Is she ill? Did she have a vision? What—"

Mother came over and put a reassuring arm on his shoulder. "She's fine, Merlin. Just exhausted."

He sensed there was more his mother wasn't telling him. "Exhausted from what?"

Mother smiled hesitantly. "Ceridwen's little boy was sick from mushroom poisoning. He was nearly dead when Della and I got there." She paused. "She used magic to heal him. It took a great deal out of her and the spell nearly failed, but she persevered. If you saw Owen now, you'd have never known he was ill."

Merlin listened, astonished. "I knew she was a powerful healer when I first met her, but that kind of healing requires an immense amount of concentration and skill. I still struggle with it on occasion." He smiled, filled with admiration for her. She must've known it was risky too, since healing spells could often backfire—something he knew from experience. "She doubts herself but I know she's capable of so much." Without thinking, he reached over and brushed a loose lock of her hair from her forehead. He suddenly realized how intimate of a gesture that was and he pulled his hand back quickly.

"The confidence you have in her helped her along the way," Mother said. "Knowing that you care for her, knowing that someone believes in her and that she isn't alone—I believe that's what helped her find the strength to overcome her fear and doubt."

Merlin felt his face warm at her comments. He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I care for her as a friend would."

Mother responded with a chuckle. "That's what I told myself with your father, for far too long." She rarely mentioned his father and their past. "I've seen how you are around her—and how she is around you. But you're both too stubborn to see it. "

"I don't know, " Merlin said. "I'm not sure if it's wise to head into a relationship while we're both still grieving." What else could he say? He knew Mother was right, but it was hard to admit to himself.

"Some could say that a relationship could help with the healing process." She squeezed his shoulder. "I know you're feeling vulnerable, especially now, and you're guarding your heart. You are like me in that regard. Just think about what I've said. I'm only telling you this because I want to see you happy."

"Thank you, Mother," he said, and reached up and squeezed her hand. "And I'll think about it."

"And that's all I ask," she replied. She stood up and kissed the top of his head and went to grab her shawl.

"Where are you off to?" Merlin asked.

"I promised Ceridwen I would come by later to see how Owen is faring," she said. She grabbed her shawl on the back of her chair and went to the door. Della stirred in her sleep. "I should be back soon after Della wakes up. I don't think she's eaten since breakfast, so try and see if she'll eat something." She gave him a smile before she went out.

Merlin shook his head and chuckled.

So, Mother knew—and probably had known—about his feelings for Della. Perhaps she was right in that he should embrace the possibility of something more. Yet, it still left him nervous.

She was convinced that Della felt the same, but he wasn't so certain. There were times he thought there was an attraction between them, but other times she retreated back behind a wall. He understood all too well. Rushing into a deeper relationship would be a mistake. But holding back could be one.

A new resolve filled him after what he was told earlier. He could make his feelings known slowly and see where it would go from there. Mother was right in one thing—their shared tragedies over the last weeks had brought him closer to her than to anyone recently.

Della stirred again and he realized she'd be waking soon—and he didn't want to be sitting here next to her bed, staring at her. How would he explain that off?

He got up and took Mother's blatant hint and started making some soup for when Della woke up.

* * *

The smell of cooked cabbage stirred Della from her half slumber. Disjointed images and voices remained in her mind—that of Merlin gently brushing back some hair from her face and of he and Hunith talking. Something about them being too stubborn? She rubbed her eyes, shaking the odd thoughts from her head. She must've been dreaming again.

Della sat up slowly, realizing just how hungry she was. She blinked a few times to remove the last remnants of sleep and saw Merlin by the hearth. Something akin to relief and joy stirred within her. She smiled, watching him as he concentrated on putting a few more vegetables in the pot. He hadn't noticed she'd awakened yet.

She cleared her throat. "Welcome home," she said.

He turned and flashed a grin in her direction. "You've no idea how happy I am to be back," he said. There was a double meaning to his statement and she had a feeling things in Camelot did not go as smoothly as planned. "I'm sorry about earlier, too, leaving in the mood I was in. You and Mother were right. The trip there took most of my energy. I had to take it slowly coming back. I should've listened to you."

Before she could say anything regarding the trip, he changed the subject. "Soup's almost ready. I'll bet you're hungry after what happened."

"Hunith told you then? About my using magic to heal Owen?"

He removed the pot from the fireplace carefully and ladled out soup in the bowls on the table. "She did. I'm impressed, Della," he said, turning back to her. "Actually, impressed isn't the right word. I'm proud of you."

"Proud?" Della asked. "I'm not sure it warrants all that. You could've done it much more easily. And probably without needing to sleep half the day away afterwards."

He came and sat next to her at the edge of her bed. "You have far too little confidence in yourself, Della," he said. "I'm proud of you because you finally had the courage to see your own strength and ability—something I've known since the first time I met you." The intensity of his blue eyes wasn't lost on her as he stared at her with something more than just simple pride in her actions.

Perhaps what she'd thought she'd been dreaming wasn't a dream after all.

"Thank you. For believing in me. It means a great deal, knowing that." She bit her lip, unsure of what to say afterward. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious, sitting here. She ran a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down the frizzled strands of hair from sleeping. "The soup smells wonderful," she said, trying to shift conversation. "Thank you for cooking it."

He smiled one of his wonderful grins again. "Well, it may not be as good as what you make, but I do know a thing or two about cooking. Had to do it all the time when I was with Arthur and the knights. They were all useless in that regard."

Della laughed. "I'm sure they were." She pulled back the covers and slid her legs to the side of the cot to get up.

And stood up entirely too fast. A wave of vertigo came over her as her feet buckled. Merlin quickly reacted and caught her by her elbow, his other arm coming around to brace her shoulder. She instantly felt her face and neck flush at her clumsiness—and his close proximity.

She laughed quietly. "I'm such a dolt," she said.

He laughed quietly in return. "You just stood up too fast in anticipation of my delicious cooking," he said.

"That must be it then," she said, joking back. She realized his arms were still around her tightly and her head spun again, though this time from something else entirely. "I, um…I think I can make it to the table on my own," she said, as lighthearted as possible.

"As long as you're sure," Merlin said, letting go, albeit reluctantly. Part of her wished he had argued against it.

She pushed the thought aside, like she'd been doing more and more of as of late, and walked the few steps to the table. Though he'd let go of her, Merlin stayed within half an arm's length, just in case she had another clumsy episode.

They both sat across the table from each other. Hunger overtook her and it took all her self-control not to practically inhale the food in front of her.

"Glad to know the soup's good," he said teasingly.

Well, perhaps she hadn't been as controlled as she thought. She covered her mouth, trying to hold back an embarrassed laugh. She swallowed her rather large bite of cabbage. "I'm just a little hungrier than normal," she said. "But yes, it's quite good. You should cook more often."

"I've offered but you chase me away every time I've tried," he said, taking a spoonful of his own.

"True," she said. "I promise I won't do that anymore."

"I'll remember to bring this conversation up next time I offer and you refuse," he said.

Conversation stilted as they both ate. Della noticed he hadn't brought up his trip back to Camelot at all. It must've meant it was harder for him than he'd anticipated.

She hesitated to bring it up after the lighthearted banter between them, but decided to go ahead anyway. "So," she said, after swallowing the last bite of her meal, "was your trip to Camelot…successful?"

Merlin stopped for a moment and sighed. "If by successful, you mean dropping the letters off and then leaving without being seen, then no."

She figured as much "What happened? You don't have to tell me if it's too painful."

He put his spoon down and looked at her. "I saw Gaius. Just before I left." He looked away for a moment and locked his jaw and she could tell he was trying to hold back tears.

"Was he well?" Della asked.

Merlin nodded. "Well enough. Except for me breaking his heart." He looked up at her. "I saw him cry as I left. The first time I can ever remember seeing him do so."

"Oh Merlin," she said. She reached across the table and took his hand without a thought and he wrapped his long fingers around hers. He looked so forlorn and heartbroken himself—just as he had the night before they arrived in Ealdor. She wished she had more words of comfort or wisdom for him, but what could she say? That severing ties with a life you knew and loved never really became easier over time? That the regret and guilt always left a part of your heart missing?

She kept silent and just held his hand, hoping that would be enough.

"Having you to confide in has helped me more than you know." He squeezed her hand and smiled. "That reminds me," he said, a small grin returning. "I have something for you." He let go of her hand and brought over his travel bag and came to sit next to her.

Della turned around on the bench and watched as he went through his bag. The fact he thought about her while he was away, even for that brief period of time, made her smile. He sat close to her now, too—so close, their shoulders nearly touched.

"Here," he said, pulling out a small leather bound book and handing it to her. It looked—and felt—vaguely familiar. "It's a book of healing potions and theories from Gwillem of Mercia. He was said to be—"

"—the greatest healer ever known," Della finished. It _was_ the same book she remembered. Her mouth fell open in surprise as a wave of emotions came over her from her own past. Memories of being her mother's shadow, following her to Gaius' chambers as she discussed with him remedies and tonics. Secretly paging through the book on more than one of those many visits, reading over the theories, marveling over the spells. When Mama realized she was studying the spell portion, she made Gaius hide the book.

Merlin looked a bit taken aback by her words. "Did Ealhwyn tell you about him?"

His words broke her out of her memory. "Yes," she managed to say. "She said the spells were second to none. I'm not sure if I am skilled enough to use them yet."

"You used powerful magic to save Owen today, didn't you?" Merlin said.

"Yes," Della replied. "But—"

"You _are_ gifted," he said, placing a hand over hers. His gaze was unwavering. Her heart pounded in her ears as she looked back at him. "A little boy has another chance at life and a mother has her son back because of you and no one else. You were—and are—skilled enough. And you have the potential to be even more so."

She smiled back at him, heart full of gratitude and admiration. "As long as you're believing in me," she said, "I could likely do anything."

Her comment made him turn red and he smiled and looked down at the floor. She was increasingly aware of something more growing between them, yet held herself back. _I can't even consider it._

A loud and impatient knock interrupted their quiet moment. Merlin's brow furrowed as he looked at the door. He let go of her hand as he got up to answer it. Della already had a feeling who was on the other side before it even opened.

"Where is she?" Mistress Nerys' voice echoed in the small doorway. "Where's the sorceress you've been harboring?" The old woman pushed past a shocked Merlin into the cottage. Della put her book down on the table and stood to face her, ready for the accusations.

"I don't believe I invited you in, Mistress," Merlin said.

"And I don't believe I care," Nerys spat back at him. "Hiding a magic user is nearly as bad as being one in my book. But you know a thing or two about concealing one, don't you? What with hiding Will's true side all those years."

Merlin clenched his fist at his side and took a breath. Della could tell he was restraining his irritation as best he could. "I don't see what that has to do with Della."

"Oh don't give me that," Nerys said waving a hand dismissively at him. "You know very well she"—Nerys pointed a wrinkled bony finger at her—"used magic to heal Ceridwen's boy. There was no other way he could've been helped. He was a few breaths away from crossing over and now the child is running around his house with more energy than a colt!"

"Were you there when Owen was healed?" Merlin asked.

"What?" She paused. "No, I wasn't."

"Then you can't say that magic was used for certain," Merlin said.

Nerys looked at him incredulously. "Any fool with eyes who'd seen the boy before and after would come to the same conclusion." She shook her head. "I see all those years being king's servant did nothing for that intelligence of yours."

Merlin's mouth fell open in shock. Della's own irritation took over. "That's enough," Della said, jumping in. Merlin didn't need to be verbally abused by this old hag a moment longer. "Your issue is with me, not Merlin."

"Oh, you're bloody well right it is," Nerys said, coming closer. Though the woman was no taller than herself, Della couldn't help but feel as if she was towering over her. "What you did goes against the laws of nature. It was the boy's time and you subverted that using your dark magic."

"Are you a god or goddess in disguise, Nerys?" Della said. "Who are you to make such decisions about when someone's time is up?"

That made Nerys struggle to find her words. "Magic of all kind is illegal here and for good reason. Have you not seen the evil wrought upon the lands from the witches such as Morgause and Morgana?"

Della saw Merlin shut his eyes at the mention of their names. He spoke up again. "Magic in and of itself isn't evil, only the hearts of men and women who use it in such ways, Nerys. If Della did use magic, it was only for good. Can you not agree on that?"

Nerys shook her head. "Good or no, it is against the law of this land. Using it puts you and everyone associated with you—" she looked pointedly at Merlin "at risk of death. And I for one am not willing to see this village and its inhabitants go up in flames because of one besotted fool and naïve sorceress."

Merlin's face turned red, whether from being called a besotted fool or just from loss of patience. "And what are you planning on doing? Have Della burnt at the stake? In all the years I've been here, we've never killed anyone for magic."

"Because we never needed to," Nerys said. "And I'm not calling for her death. But you—" She walked up so close to Della that Merlin stepped in and had to put a hand between them. "You don't belong here in Ealdor. I'm going to the village elders to see what needs done about this whole mess. If I were you, Della, I'd be thinking about where to go next. I can assure you, they will not tolerate a sorceress in their midst." She turned from both of them and went out the door in nearly as much of a flurry as she arrived.

Merlin let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I didn't see that coming."

"I did," Della said. "She was there when I first came to see Owen and disliked me on the spot. Ceridwen warned me there might be trouble from her. I'm just surprised it took her this long to come here and confront me about it. But if she has her way, I'll need to leave Ealdor for good."

Merlin put his hands gently on her shoulders. "I won't let them banish you from the village. I promised that you would be safe here and you will. I'll make sure of it. Do you trust me on that?"

His determination made her hopeful. "Yes. I trust you."

Merlin smiled and kissed the top of her head, bringing her into a much needed embrace. Whatever uncertainty she felt disappeared sheltered in his arms.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just A few references from throughout the series scattered throughout this chapter. The book Merlin brings back to Della was used in S4 in "The Wicked Day." And of course the little dragon figure was from the last episode of S2, "The Last Dragonlord."

A big thanks to my beta readers, Requiem17 and Jewelsmg for helping me make things readable :) This story wouldn't be half as good without them! And thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers!


	12. Not Alone

Merlin stood in the middle of the cottage with his arms still wrapped around Della. Her head was nestled just under his chin and he felt the warmth of her soft breathing through his linen shirt. Ever so gently, he rubbed her back with his thumb. She sighed contentedly and his heart leapt in his chest. Completely unexpected, she was stealing his heart beat by beat.

The sound of the door opening startled them both. Della pulled away but her arms still rested lightly on his chest.

Hunith came in and stopped mid-step. "Oh," she exclaimed, looking from one to the other. "I interrupted something, didn't I?"

Della let go and Merlin nervously scratched the back of his head. "Um…" Really, what could he say?

"I'll just…clean this up," Della said, turning away, her gaze focusing on their empty bowls. She walked back to the table to clear it and he saw her hands trembling. "There's some soup left, Hunith, if you'd like me to get you some." Her voice a shook a little and was a touch too exuberant for the moment.

"No, thank you, dear," she said. "I shared a meal with Ceridwen. Let me help you here." Hunith shared a glance with Merlin and gave him a small smile. He let out a breath, his initial embarrassment gone. She _had_ encouraged him to go in this direction with Della, though he hadn't expected it to have happened so quickly after their conversation earlier. But Della didn't know that and he could tell she was beyond flustered.

If he'd held her another moment longer, he was certain he would've kissed her, and more than just a chaste forehead kiss. He hoped this little incident didn't discourage her and reestablish that wall of hers.

"How fares Owen?" Della asked, breaking the strange atmosphere.

"He's very energetic," Hunith said. "Poor Ceridwen had a difficult time getting him to sit still long enough to finish his supper." She smiled. "I think you also have a little admirer in him. He wouldn't stop talking about you, his 'new friend who helped him feel all better again'."

Della beamed, showing off that undeniably beautiful smile. "How very sweet."

Apparently even the little boy was drawn to her caring nature. _Seems like you have more than one admirer now,_ Merlin said through their hidden connection.

Della met his eyes, blushing slightly. _Seems I do._

Hunith didn't miss their locked gazes. "The looks you two are exchanging right now makes me feel as if I interrupted a kiss," she teased.

Merlin never saw someone go from pink to sheer white in such a short time. Della's eyes darted to the floor and he wondered why she felt so embarrassed. Did she somehow think his mother disapproved of her? That was the furthest thing from the truth.

Hunith noticed too and took Della's hand in both of hers. "I hope you don't think I object in any way," she said, her voice soft and kind. "If anything, seeing Merlin finally open his heart again makes me the happiest mother on earth."

Now it was his turn to look at the floor self-consciously. Of course she remembered Freya—and no other since. And he'd fully expected it to be that way the remainder of his life.

Della smiled in acknowledgement of Hunith's approval. She bit her lip, which Merlin knew meant she was trying to find the right words to say. "I've always assumed I'd be alone, what with the burden I have."

She spoke the same words Merlin had always felt for so many years. He'd written something eerily similar in a letter right around the time of Arthur and Gwen's wedding. Watching their joy and their faces light up with love whenever they saw each other had made him realize there was a part of his heart that longed for that again. But he assumed destiny didn't have that in store for him.

But now that Arthur was gone, perhaps a new destiny stood right in front of him. With her.

His thoughts were interrupted by his mother's hand grabbing his. She pulled him closer to her as she stood slightly between him and Della. "Know that I will not stand in the way of anything between you," Hunith said. "I want you both to be happy." She squeezed his hand and Della's. "Now then. There's another pressing issue that needs discussed: Mistress Nerys."

Damn that old woman, ruining another moment. "Ah, yes, that old hag," Merlin said.

Hunith gave him a stern look. "Now, while I may agree with you in that regard, Nerys still commands a great deal of respect in the village due to her healing prowess. She's also delivered most of the children born here the last forty years, including yourself."

"That still doesn't give her the right to be such a…" he struggled to find a word, "termagant crone."

Della let out startled laugh. "Termagant? What made you choose such a big word?"

"Sometimes they just…come out," Merlin said. "Especially when I'm angry." Arthur made him do so quite often.

"He means especially when he's insulting someone," Hunith continued.

"Anyway," Merlin said, returning back to the subject. "Do you think Nerys will call for Della's banishment? She left here stating she'd talk to the town elders about seeking it."

"Unfortunately, yes," Hunith said. "I passed her stopping at Elder John's cottage."

"All because Della did what she couldn't," Merlin said, irritation rising.

Della, who had been silent, spoke up. "And because she feels threatened by me," she said. "Another healer encroaching upon her territory. I would've been willing to work _with_ her instead of against her."

"Unfortunately, Nerys has always been against working with anyone," Hunith said.

Another knock came on the door. "Well, that didn't take long," Merlin grumbled.

As Hunith walked to the door, he felt Della's hand reach for his. He grabbed it firmly and gave a gentle reassuring squeeze.

She took in a shaky breath and he could tell she was trying to build her resolve. If the worst happened and they cast her from the village, he wouldn't let her go alone.

Hunith opened the door and Merlin heard the voice of Elder John. Thankfully, he had enough manners to remain outside instead of barging through the door as Nerys had earlier.

"Come in, John," Hunith said. John walked through the door, his short and stout frame nearly filling the doorway. He was a man of middling age, with graying hair and a balding head. Merlin had to admit he was thankful John was an elder now; he'd always been an understanding fellow.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Hunith," John said, true regret in his eyes. "But I fear there's been a serious accusation against your visitor, Della."

"I know of it," Hunith said. "It's unfounded and stems from jealousy alone."

"That may be," John said, "but we have to look into any sorcery claims. We don't need Lot's soldiers coming here making trouble. You know they'd show no mercy."

Hunith nodded and John looked over at Della, his eyes briefly landing on their held hands. "I wish no harm on you, Della," he said. "And I'm sorry for the grief this causes after what you endured none too long ago."

Della let go of Merlin's hand and clasped hers together in front of her. "I am ready to answer any and all questions concerning the incident." Whatever nervousness she may have felt earlier wasn't at all evident now. The way she carried herself, with a straight posture and calm, yet dignified voice, reminded Merlin of a courtier and not a peasant healer. He could almost picture her wearing the finery befitting that station and suddenly wondered how much of his observations were true.

John smiled politely. "Nerys called for this to be heard tonight at Elder Elgan's cottage."

"So soon?" Mother said. "It's nearly nightfall."

John looked at her and shrugged. "Nerys insisted. You know her. The woman wouldn't leave my house until I agreed."

"It's fine," Della interjected. "The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can all move past this." Her tenacity was remarkable, though he knew her well enough by now to see the edge of anxiety in the light of her eyes.

John nodded. "All right. Shall we head out?"

* * *

The sun was on the verge of dipping below the horizon as Della followed Elder John down the muddied street. The day's rain had made walking difficult, and with each step Della felt herself sink lower and lower into the earth—physically and metaphorically.

She also felt the eyes of the curious villagers watching from their windows. It looked as if Nerys had been busy before coming to threaten her earlier. That would explain why she hadn't come much sooner in the day.

Walking down that road reminded Della of Havenswood all over again, only this time it wouldn't be her choice to leave or stay if things didn't go well. Whatever happened, she was determined not to show weakness. She would be strong and confident, even if the feelings within were struggling to overturn that.

Merlin was next to her in a moment, taking her hand in his without hesitation, in full view of the villagers. _You aren't alone,_ came the words in her mind. She smiled at him, thankful for his unwavering support and his outward gesture. He was making it clear where he stood—and simultaneously showing everyone that their assumptions of the relationship between them was now more than friendship.

Would that remain the case if she was banished? Would he come with her? She hoped he wouldn't have to make a decision between her and his childhood home. Tendrils of guilt wove around her heart thinking about everything he'd done for her so far and everything he continued to do for her. She cared for him immensely and knowing she might be the cause of another possible painful decision made her anxiety grow.

No, she refused to think about that now. She needed to focus on making sure that crone Nerys wouldn't succeed in her intention.

They made it to Elgan's cottage, near the other end of the small village. A growing crowd of people were gathering in front. By the gods, was this judgment going to happen in front of the entire village? Della's anxiety was now mixed with irritation. All of this because she agreed to try and save a sick boy.

Elder John knocked on the door and another man, so tall that he had to crouch through the door, came out. He looked to be about the same age as John, if not a bit older, with darker skin and a neatly trimmed beard. He looked down at her and her anxiety eased. He had the same look of distress as John had. "I'm deeply sorry for all of this," he said.

Della gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Please come in," he said, stepping back inside. The cottage was the same size as Hunith and Merlin's, if not a little bigger. Two benches were set up in an L-shape in the middle of the room around the hearth. Elgan's family stood at the far end of the room—a woman around Hunith's age with dark hair pulled up under her head covering and a young boy perhaps a few years older than Owen. Nerys sat on a stool at the table, her harsh eyes never leaving her, as well as Ceridwen and little Owen, who sat on his mother's lap.

When Owen saw her, he broke into a smile. "My friend Della is here!" he announced to the room. He got up from Ceridwen's lap and came over and hugged her, taking her by surprise. He looked up at her, his green eyes full of a child's joy. "Will you come sit by me?"

The tense atmosphere eased for a moment and Della felt herself smiling as she looked down at him. "Of course I will."

Owen took her hand and led her away from Merlin and Hunith back the few steps towards where Ceridwen was sitting. But before she could sit, Nerys spoke up. "Wouldn't it be prudent to take the child elsewhere?" she said. "These are serious matters we're discussing and we can't afford to be interrupted by his talk."

Once again the atmosphere shifted back to a stiff silence. Even little Owen remained quiet, his former happiness dampened by the indirect but obvious scolding from Nerys.

Della saw Merlin shake his head in disgust out of the corner of her eye. His jaw tensed and she watched as he struggled to not respond to Nerys' rudeness.

Thankfully, Ceridwen spoke up, taking command of the situation. "Owen, dear, would you like to go and play with David?" She glanced back at Elgan's wife, who took the hint and immediately came over with her son. "Mari can take you back to our house to play. Would that be all right?"

Owen nodded as he looked from Della to Mari and took her extended hand. He looked back at Della as they made their way to the door. "Will you play with me tomorrow?"

"If she's here tomorrow," Nerys said under her breath.

Della ignored her vitriolic statement. "I promise I'll come over and see you tomorrow," she said and looked back at Nerys, unblinking. Her determination to make this woman look like the petty hag that she was grew stronger.

Owen's former smile returned and he waved goodbye as he followed Mari out the door. With his departure, the tension of the room increased again.

Della sat in the spot next to Ceridwen on the small bench and Hunith took the spot furthest from Nerys on the other bench pointedly averting her eyes. Merlin came and sat next to Della while John and Elgan stood at the front of the room. As Elgan was the true head of the village, he began.

"You all know why we are here this evening," he said. "Nerys claims that only sorcery could have saved young Owen from certain death. Mistress, please explain further why you believe this."

Nerys nodded curtly, her scowl deepening. "The boy was at the last stage of mushroom poisoning. His color was yellowed, his belly distended. These are all signs that the body is on the verge of death. There is no—" she looked at Della, eyes unblinking " _natural_ non magical cure that will bring someone back from that. This is why I believe this woman here used some sort of enchantment to cure him. In my more than 40 years as a healer, I have never seen a body recover."

The same shadow of distrust was mirrored in Nerys' eyes just as another's had. Darker memories of an earlier time, when she was much younger, more naïve and more was at stake, edged into her mind. Voices of a tyrant king, with fear and hate in eyes, staring at her as she knelt on the floor, interrogating her mother, bound at the wrist with two armed guards at either side. _She was on the edge of death._ _No one can recover from such an injury naturally._

Della remained silent, pushing the unwanted memory back. Though she may not die as her mother had if they came to the conclusion she used magic, she would be without a home. Again.

John interjected. "Now Nerys, could there not be some newer remedy that Della here developed?"

Nerys looked at him, appalled. "Are you saying that I am unlearned in such ways?"

"No, Mistress, I was only suggesting that maybe, since Della came from elsewhere, that perhaps there's a newer remedy she learned."

Nerys looked apoplectic. "I may be old, and I may be from this tiny, backwoods village, but I assure you, I am well connected to other healers in Essetir, Camelot and beyond. Are you so deluded that you refuse to see what's in front of you? "

John sighed and Della watched as Merlin shook his head and shifted in his seat next to her. She could almost feel the restrained anger radiating off of him. Her own irritation grew at each accusation but she maintained her calm. At least for now.

No one acknowledged Nerys' outburst and Elgan continued. "I need to ask one other thing of you Mistress. Were you there to witness said enchantments cast from Della's lips?"

Nerys' mouth became a thin, tight line. "No, I was not." She glanced over at Merlin, briefly, for he'd brought up the same thing. Merlin nodded slowly, his arms crossed in front of him. Not one to leave it as is, she continued. "I may not have been there, but Ceridwen was, as was Hunith. Though I don't expect the latter to give you an honest testament."

Hunith looked at her, and shook her head slightly. "Why are you so keen to see this poor girl's life destroyed? Is it because you feel threatened by her because she's another healer?"

"That is absurd," Nerys sniffed, but it was plain as day that was it.

"Is it?" Della broke her silence. "The moment I came to the cottage, you were antagonistic towards me. You certainly acted threatened. For what reason, I don't know. I would never presume to overthrow your position in town, yet you assumed such the very moment I walked through Ceridwen's door. I would've even been willing to work alongside you if given the—"

"I don't work alongside anyone, least of all pretentious upstarts," Nerys said.

Della bit her lip and crafted a response back. "Well then, I suppose that saves me from working with a bitter and possessive old woman. Perhaps the rest of the village will be thankful now that they'll have a better tempered healer to choose."

Nerys squinted at her, her remark obviously striking close to home. "No one will seek help from a manipulative, immoral sorceress."

"What is wrong with you?" Merlin suddenly said.

"Merlin!" Hunith quickly chided.

Merlin ignored it and continued. "You were always a disagreeable person but now you're just contemptible. She's done nothing wrong, except save a life that you were unable and unwilling to do."

Nerys focused her spite on him now. "You're blinded by your infatuation with her. Of course you'll defend the woman who's warming your bed."

Della felt the wind knocked out of her lungs as Merlin's face turned red in a combination of rage, disgust and embarrassment; even he was at a loss for words for a moment. Hunith just sat and stared at Nerys in utter shock and disbelief, Ceridwen had covered her mouth in shock and the two elders stared at her agape.

The shocked silence transformed into a tumultuous explosion on varied fronts.

"How can you say something so baseless?" said Hunith.

"That comment only further proves my point about being contemptible," Merlin said.

Nerys said nothing, but looked pleased to have elicited such a reaction. That was what got under Della's skin the most. She wouldn't acknowledge it as the others had. "My relationship with Merlin has no bearing on what's being discussed here. If anything, it only serves to show your unfounded animosity of me," she said, as calmly as possible. "Can we please get back to the manner at hand?"

Della's sensible comment broke the shock of the Nerys' previous insult and Elgan stepped in. "Thank you, Della, for reminding us why we are actually here. " He continued, turning his attention to Ceridwen who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there at the moment. "Were you aware of any sort of spells or incantations Della used in healing your son?"

"I saw nothing of the sort," Ceridwen said, firm and convicted.

"Can you explain the course of events and what you did see after Mistress Nerys left the cottage?" John asked.

Ceridwen nodded. "My son was very near to taking his last breath. Della examined him, just as Nerys did. She put together a small tonic and gave it to my son. That was it." She said it without hesitation.

Nerys was unable to remain silent. "See here? Said it before and I'll say it again: one does not recover from death's door from a _tonic._ And certainly not enough for the boy to be bouncing around in full health a mere hour later!"

Elgan and John ignored her. "And you are certain you saw or heard nothing else?" John said.

"I saw nothing." Which was a partial truth, Della thought, seeing as she was asleep, though Ceridwen was wise enough not to mention that.

Ceridwen continued. "I only know that my son is alive and well thanks to her care. I feel it would be unfair to see such a kind person punished for only trying to help." She glanced over at Della and gave her a small smile. Della took a deep breath and nodded in thanks. If she remained in town, she'd have to find some way to show Ceridwen her gratitude.

"And Hunith?" John asked. "Did you see or hear anything odd?"

"I only saw what Ceridwen described," Hunith said. "Della gave Owen the tonic from her medicine bag. Nothing different."

"And you'll take her word for it?" Nerys said. "She's too close to the girl. Her account is useless."

"We all know where you stand, Mistress." Hunith replied.

Elgan sighed and drew a hand over his face, clearly exasperated by Nerys' constant interruptions. But he maintained his calm. He turned his attention to Della. "This tonic you gave to Owen," he said. "There was nothing special about it?"

Della recited the lie she'd practiced in her head. "I added a touch of horehound and some chamomile but nothing more."

Nerys let out a sound of disgust. "She's lying! How can you all be so blind as to not see it? She could've enchanted it before she ever set foot in Ealdor. And I want to know how the damage to his body was reversed? Answer me that!"

"One more word from you, Nerys, and I will ask you to stand outside," Elgan said.

Nerys squinted at him in anger and thankfully kept her mouth shut.

Elgan turned back to Della. "And you did nothing else except administer the tonic? This tonic helped reverse the damage already done as well?"

She lied again. "Yes." She said. Another noise of disgust from Nerys.

Elgan looked back at John who shrugged his shoulders slightly. She wasn't entirely sure they were convinced she was telling the truth. So she continued. "Could this not be a case of something unexplained? Perhaps a miracle?"

"Everything has an explanation," Nerys said. "Tell me, how many times has a "miracle" happened while you healed in your old village using just plain herbs, hmm? Something tells me you leaving that village had less to do with the Saxons attacking."

Della's throat dried up. If this woman was as well connected as she claimed, the truth could very well come to light. And then what about Merlin? Surely they would connect the clues as to his identity as well.

Merlin must have come to the same conclusion and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

No, she would have to be strong in her convictions. She would have to hope that such a story would remain hidden. There was no guarantee Nerys would actually gather the truth. No one in Havenswood ever pieced together who she really was after years of living there, despite being within a half day's walk of Camelot.

"I assure you, I left on my own accord," Della said. That was not a lie. "And I'd ask you not to bring that up again."

"But if you were a sorceress there—"

Elgan interrupted what looked to be another of Nerys' digressions. "I think we've enough of the story to come to a decision. John and I will discuss it and be back in a moment." He stood up and he and John went out the door. Della took a breath and hoped, based on their reactions, that the decision would be in her favor.

Nerys seemed to know she had a faulty leg to stand on now as well. She remained silent, stewing in her uncertainty.

The room was silent and the glow of the fire cast dancing shadows across everyone's serious faces.

 _I have a feeling Nerys will be sorely disappointed_ Merlin's voice echoed at the edge of her mind.

 _Perhaps,_ Della answered back. _But I fear this whole ordeal will not be forgotten by everyone. Nerys has a point unfortunately—only a fool would believe I didn't use a spell. Even Owen thought it was magic._

 _Yes, but there's no proof. No one saw anything so it's only hearsay._ Merlin reached over and placed his hand on hers. _You aren't on trial in front of Uther or Lot. I know John and Elgan and trust me, they are not the kind who will cast you out as easily as Nerys wishes._

His words and his touch comforted her own uncertainty. Still, would people look upon her the same? How many would side with Nerys and their fear of magic?

A few more silent moments passed and her hesitation increased. If it had been an easy decision, they should've been back by now. Even Nerys knew it.

"Seems the decision isn't as easily come by as you all think," Nerys said. "Perhaps they're seeing reason and sense."

No one gave her the pleasure of a retort though Merlin's hand tightened on hers.

Finally, the door opened and the sound of the creaking hinges in the otherwise silent cottage made Della jolt in her seat. Elgan and John stood at the front of the room and Elgan started.

"Young Owen's recovery is mysterious. However, since no spells or enchantments were heard or seen by anyone in the cottage at the time, Della cannot be condemned as a sorceress."

Della let out a breath of relief while Merlin let out a happy cry.

Nerys stood up out of her chair in a remarkably quick movement for one her age, so quickly that the chair nearly tipped over. "You are fools. The lot of you! Others in town believe me too. Do you not see the crowd in the streets?"

"That crowd has since gone home," Elgan said. "I have let them know of our decision. Most seemed satisfied with the outcome."

"Lies!" Nerys said. "I'll have you known Mistress Joyce, Master Neil and Mistress Nellie all felt the same as I and—"

"Three people is hardly a majority," Merlin said.

"Nevertheless, the people aren't as stupid as you lot here," Nerys said. "They'll come to see I am right and—"

"Why can you not let this go?" Della said. Enough was enough. "The elders have come to their decision, regardless of your or anyone's opinion. Please, if you still have a heart, let this pass and let us all live our lives in peace."

For once, Nerys didn't have a sour retort. Her nostrils flared and she walked to the door. She turned and pointed her finger at Della. "You'll show your true colors soon enough. You'll make a mistake someday and everyone will see I was right to have called for your banishment. I just hope the village is still left standing by then." Then she walked out in a huff.

Della shut her eyes and steadied her breath. Her words brought her back to the fate of her former village. By the gods, she prayed Ealdor would be spared such a fate.

"Well, that unpleasant business is done with," John said. "There is something we need to address."

 _Here it comes._ "Yes?"

Elgan and John exchanged glances. Elgan spoke. "It is the general opinion, amongst John and I—and the rest of the village—that magic was used."

"However," John continued, seeing Della's worried look, "since there were no eyewitness accounts we felt it would be unfair to...cast you out, as Nerys requested."

"We've all seen magic firsthand, years ago, when raiders attacked our village," Elgan said. "Many still remember that it saved us that day. And we've been fortunate enough to have been spared the evil that has befallen Camelot from the High Priestesses. That being said," Elgan looked at her unblinking, "people are still hesitant regarding its use. And another such…miraculous healing at your hand cannot be overlooked so easily. Do you understand?"

Della nodded. Essentially they were saying, _We know you used magic and we won't fault you for it since you used it for good, but don't use it again._ "I understand."

Satisfied with her answer, Elgan nodded. "Well then, I think we are done here." He said, standing. "Let's put this incident behind us. Tomorrow is another day."

Everyone else stood up as well. Ceridwen began to head to the door but Della stopped her. "Thank you," she said.

Ceridwen squeezed her hand. "Without you, my son would be dead. There's no thanks needed." She smiled. "Will you come and visit tomorrow? I know Owen will love to see you."

"I promised him I would," Della said. "Tell him I look forward to it."

Ceridwen nodded. "I will." She nodded at Hunith and Merlin and left.

John followed shortly behind. "Nerys may still be a bit of a thorn," he said. "My advice is to try and stay out of her way. The woman thrives on conflict. Don't give her any more cause to start a stir. The villagers may view her as a cantankerous old lady, but they still listen to her venomous words. "

Della nodded, knowing that would be the case. Nerys seemed the type who felt easily threatened by anyone who dared to be encroach on her "territory." She would do her best to stay out of the old woman's way, even though she knew it would be a challenge in such a small village.

Hunith left next and she and Merlin followed. Just as she exited, she turned back to Elgan, clasping her hands in front of her nervously.

"I'm sorry to have caused such a stir," Della said. "I'm sure this does not help my reputation."

Elgan shook his head. "It was Nerys who caused the stir, not you," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder in fatherly regard. "Don't let it trouble you. As for the villagers, I can't speak for all of them, but what I said before stands true. Don't think they haven't noticed you toiling in the fields alongside them. They may be a bit uneasy for a time but you are still well regarded, even after this accusation. You did save a life today, regardless of the uncertain means. They will not forget that."

"All right," she said. She wasn't sure she believed him entirely but that would remain to be seen.

"Go on home now," Elgan said. "Enjoy the company you have. " He smiled and looked between her and Merlin, a knowing look in his eye, and Della felt her face warm.

"Good night. And thank you for giving me another chance at making a life here."

He nodded and went back inside.

Merlin, who had been strangely quiet, came up next to her then. "You were amazing in there," he said. "You didn't need my help at all."

Della smiled at his compliment. "Knowing you were there beside me helped," she said. He grinned at her compliment and laced his fingers with hers.

"I hope you know now that you're not alone," he said. "You have more support here than you think. The town elders, Ceridwen, little Owen, Mother…" he brought her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed the top of her hand. "And me."

The touch of his lips against her skin sent fire through her veins. New anxiety welled up within her at the progression of their relationship. She couldn't deny she'd been drawn to him shortly after she'd met him, the man of her visions now a reality. But she never let herself hope or dream that it would be more than an attraction on her end. Knowing that he harbored similar feelings for her made her heart race and her throat dry.

It was all happening so quickly. She'd lost so much, and felt so uncertain about everything lately. Would it be wise to risk her heart? And what happened if her visions returned and showed a future in which he was needed elsewhere—without her? Could her heart take it? Her mind spun with all the possible outcomes and her anxiety grew.

For now, though, she would take this moment for what it was, his hand protectively in hers as they walked home together in the stillness of the night.

* * *

Shuffling feet, the rustling of fabric and the creak of the cottage door opening stirred Merlin on the edge of wakefulness. His mind was in the middle of a dream—a rather pleasant one, filled with kisses and caresses that made him shudder.

His eyes opened, adjusting to the reality of a darkened cottage, lit only by the dimming embers from the hearth. Curse his mind for giving him false hope. But damn, that dream was so real, he could almost feel the featherweight touch of her kiss, her arms wrapped tightly around him…

 _You're getting ahead of yourself, mate. Take it easy._ They hadn't even kissed once yet, though he hoped that was coming soon.

His mind still focused on her, he drew his hand over his face, suddenly remembering the noise that woke him. He looked around the thin fabric that served as a partition between his sleeping area and Della's and saw her cot empty.

Curiosity laced with concern came over him as he pulled off his nightshirt and put on his blue linen one. He walked to the door and placed his hand on the handle and suddenly hesitated. Perhaps he was acting too quickly. She could've just been out due to nature's call—that would be beyond mortifying for both of them if he came upon her then.

He glanced over at her cot, though—it was already made, her linen nightgown folded neatly on the end. She obviously was up for the day already. It was past the darkest part of night, but before the pre-dawn crow of the roosters. It would still be too dark to see very far ahead along the street. He reached for the candle holder set on the small window ledge for late night calls of nature, but it was already gone. There was another one somewhere in the cottage, but he didn't want to go making noise enough to wake up Mother, who was still sleeping soundly on her bed in the far corner.

Well, magic it was then. He hesitated at first, but no one else would be out at this early hour at their end of town.

He exited the cottage and out into the street, the edges of the other houses visible in the pre-dawn starlight. Judging by the look of the sky and the position of some of the stars, dawn was an hour off yet.

" _Leoght."_ With the faintest of whispers, he brought forth a small flame in the palm of his hand and walked towards the back of the cottage.

It didn't take long to find Della; she hadn't gone far. He saw the faint glow of her candle when he turned the corner and found her sitting on the stone bench at the edge of their small vegetable garden. She had her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her tell-tale braid brought over her shoulder. She was gazing up at the sky, lost in thought it appeared.

He approached slowly and her gaze turned towards him as he walked closer, his small flame floating just above his palm.

"I woke you, didn't I?" she said quietly and he watched her quickly wipe her face. Now that he was closer, he saw she'd been crying. "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep."

Concern rippled through him. He closed his palm, extinguishing his flame. "What's wrong?" he asked as he sat next to her. Perhaps the loss of Ealhwyn and what happened in Havenswood was catching up with her. He rarely saw her cry or even mention it, despite it being so recent.

"I've a lot on my mind," she said.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked.

She looked away and he almost didn't hear her. "You'd think me silly for it. Or childishly naïve."

He took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. "Never," he said.

She took a shaky breath. "I…I've been thinking about this," she said, lightly squeezing his hand. "You and I. Together. It…" in the candlelight he saw her chew her lip, "It's…intimidating for me." She said. "I suppose I'm scared because I don't know what to expect." She paused once more. "And it's all happened—"

"—So fast," Merlin finished.

"Yes. We've only known each other for a few weeks and in that time, we've both been through so much…" she trailed off. "I don't want to rush into anything heedless of the consequences and then have both of us come out even more damaged than we already are." She swallowed. "I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

"No," he said. "To be honest, I've had the same misgivings." He still did to some degree, but the words Mother said earlier stuck fresh in his mind. "Perhaps being together will help us heal."

She nodded slowly, taking the words in. Wordlessly, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her back and waist and drew her close. He rested his head gently on hers, as her hair softly brushed his cheek. He reveled in the stillness of the simple moment between them. He wasn't certain how long they sat there together, but he was perfectly content to let this last as long as she needed.

"I want to be whole again." He felt the quiet tremor of her voice reverberate through his chest. "Not only for myself, but for you. I don't want to be…broken anymore." Her voice caught at the last part and he heard her hold back a sob.

"I'm just as broken," he said, a twinge of sorrow running through him. He kissed the top of her head gently in reassurance. "But I know one thing: you've helped me these past few weeks more than I ever thought possible. When I think of you—your smile and your laugh, our talks together—it gives me hope to go on, to see that there's still a light in the darkness. And that light for me is you."

Della lifted her head from his chest and she looked up at him with those soft brown eyes and lightly freckled face, her cheeks an ever so light shade of pink in the dim light. "You're my light, too."

He smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the edges of his fingers lightly tracing the smooth skin along her jaw to her chin and lips. "It's hard to be so close to you and not kiss you," he said, his thumb grazing her bottom lip.

Her response was soft but firm. "Then what are you waiting for?"

He couldn't help but grin widely at her response. He moved his hand—and somewhat unsteadily—cupped her cheek. His heart was beating so loud he was certain she could hear it. All that he wanted now was to feel her lips on his.

Her eyes closed in anticipation. He leaned forward, feeling her breath warm on his lips, and kissed her.

It was better than he could've ever imagined. Pure joy radiated through him as they connected and he felt as if the world cracked open. He drew her close and she leaned into him, kissing him again. Two kisses became three, then four. Everything became clearer for that one glorious space in time. Everything felt right. Complete.

All too soon, it ended. The sound of a crowing rooster startled them both as they broke their locked lips. Della laughed softly. "I guess that means we should head back inside," she said.

"Mmhmm," he murmured. He gave her one last, lingering kiss, wishing the magic of the moment could last forever. He leaned back and rested his forehead on hers. "I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get anything productive done today."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Della said, taking both of his hands, "Maybe think about kissing me again later tonight?"

Merlin laughed. "I'm fairly certain that'll do the opposite."

Della shrugged slightly. "Well, I guess I'm no help then," she said. The rooster crowed again as the edges of the sky turned lighter with the impending dawn. She pulled away reluctantly standing up as Merlin followed. "Are you ready for a new day?" she asked.

He brought her hand up to his lips brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "More than anything."

* * *

 **A/N:** Finally, what everyone's been waiting for, right? :) But will it last...?

As always, thanks to my beta Requiem17 and Jewelsmg for helping me clean up this chapter and make it swoonworthy. ;)


	13. The Past Comes to Visit

Leon walked the corridor leading to the royal quarters. The silence of the halls and the echoing of his footsteps in the once lively castle stood out as a stark reminder of the new normal that had come over the kingdom. Arthur had been gone nearly a month now and the pall that still reigned over the castle and Camelot in general was evident.

Guinevere was doing her best to maintain composed in an uncertain time, but he knew she was struggling. He saw it at their daily Round Table meetings: the faint creases growing at the corners of her eyes and her once cheerful demeanor taken on that of a widow—and sovereign—faced with a new reality.

Compounded with the loss of Arthur was Merlin's absence. He may have been a servant in name, but only now did Leon realize how important his influence had been—on Arthur, Guinevere, even himself. Still, knowing that he was a sorcerer—possibly the strongest in the entirety of all five kingdoms—left him uneasy.

He hadn't known his friend at all.

Guinevere said that Merlin had made a brief appearance in Camelot a week and a half prior—long enough to drop off some letters for her and Gaius and leave without so much of a word to anyone else. That pained him too—that neither he, nor Percival, received a letter. There was still so much unresolved between them, so much he wanted to ask...but he hadn't a clue where his old friend was or if he'd ever appear in Camelot again.

He made it to the royal chambers and knocked. Guinevere's maidservant Meliora opened the door. "The Queen will be with you in a moment," she said, her voice quiet. She was a new addition, had only been in the position a week—after much insistence on his part after seeing just how run ragged the queen had become.

Guinevere hadn't wanted one, especially after the experience with Sefa some months prior. But enough of his nagging and she finally agreed.

"Thank you, Meliora," Guinevere said, placing down a paper she'd been perusing, rising from the table that Arthur once sat at. "Can you leave us for a few minutes? It's a nice day. Perhaps take a stroll around town? I shall be fine here for awhile.""

Meliora nervously brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. "Are you certain, your Majesty?"

"Quite." It was a simple word, but her tone was firm.

Meliora nodded. "I shall be back later, your Majesty," she said, curtseying. Guinevere let out a sigh once she left.

"She's a dedicated worker," she said. "Maybe a little too much so."

"Then she's doing her job well," Leon said. "Remember, you aren't a maid anymore. You've been doing entirely too much on your own."

"Yes, I know, we've talked about it. A dozen times," Guinevere said. "It'll take some time for me to adjust. As it has with everything else." The last part came out a little more strained and he watched as her eyes watered. Quickly, she changed the subject.

"I called you here because I have a favor to ask of you," she said. She turned back to the table and picked up an envelope, sealed with the red royal wax stamp. "Can you find me a trustworthy messenger?"

Leon had a feeling who the letter was for and brought it up. "Is that for Merlin?" He asked. Guinevere hesitated, and he knew it was likely due to the hurt he'd expressed about his lack of one.

"Yes," she said. "Gaius was able to say goodbye in person. This...this is mine." The tears she'd held back spilled down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be reacting this way."

"Of course you should," Leon said. "He was a dear friend and his absence is just as hard as..." He stopped, before mentioning Arthur. He stopped himself, a thought coming to his mind. "Perhaps, my lady, I could be the messenger?"

Guinevere hesitated. "Are you certain that would be wise?"

"If you are concerned about my duties here, Percival can take charge in the short time I am gone," he said. "As you know, things have been quiet as of late, the remaining Saxons having been pushed back to the northeastern border and—"

"That's not what I meant," she said. "I know he was a good friend of yours, and you've been trying your best to hide how much his absence has affected you, too."

He clamped his mouth shut, trying to put to words what he was feeling. Expressing such things had never come easy for him. " I never realized how often he'd helped us on those many journeys around the realm—how many times he'd saved us. The way he didn't return, without so much as a goodbye to the rest of us..." He shook his head. "I'd like to try and convince him to return."

"You know as well as I that Merlin is steadfast in his decisions. Nothing anyone says or does will convince him otherwise." She paused. "I believe you want to deliver this letter for your own peace of mind and unanswered questions."

Leon remained silent. She'd known him too well over the years. "Perhaps that is part of it."

She nodded, seeming to be coming to a decision. "And that's what I am afraid of," Guinevere said, sighing.

"My lady, I will find another messenger if you wish," he said. "I will not go against you."

"I know that, Leon," she said. "Your loyalty and obedience has never been in question." She closed her eyes and he knew she was coming to her final decision. "All right. You may deliver the letter." She handed it to him. "Merlin is in the village of Ealdor just east of the ridge of Essetir in Lot's kingdom, about a day and a half ride from here."

"I will head out in the morning."

Guinevere placed a hand on his arm in friendly support. "When you see him, remember the reasons why he kept his secret from us for so long. And…that he's grieving too." Her eyes watered but she maintained her strength.

"I shall keep that in mind, my lady," Leon said, knowing it would be difficult. Maybe it would finally give him that peace of mind about Merlin's departure and secret.

Or, it would make it worse.

* * *

 _Two days later_

The mid-morning sun on that late May spring day shone with the warmth and promise of summer on the horizon through the forest canopy. Della took in a deep breath of the mossy smell of the earth around her. She hadn't much time recently to pick wild herbs but managed to head out just past dawn that morning. She smiled, remembering the kiss goodbye Merlin gave her as she walked out the door. He was asleep as usual but managed to stumble out of bed, still in his nightshirt, and caught her as she was leaving.

"What are you—" Before she could finish, he wrapped an arm around her waist, brought her close in one swift movement, and kissed her sweetly.

"Just wanted to say good morning before you left," he said, his eyes still clouded with the haze of sleep, a half grin on his face.

"Good...morning," she said. She blushed, glancing over at Hunith at the other end of the room, who was pointedly looking away with a smile on her face. She pulled out of his embrace, feeling a little uncomfortable with such displays of affection in front of Hunith, even though she'd been more than supportive of their budding relationship. Merlin knew this too and was trying in his way to help her grow more comfortable—like these surprise moments.

He gave her one of his endearing smiles as she turned and left, her heart pounding in her ears.

She smiled to herself as she picked the chamomile, replaying in her mind their first kiss, the one that opened her entire world, brought hope and light to her life again—and all the ones at random moments since then. Her face burned thinking about it, how every touch of his lips on hers made butterflies in her stomach and fire in her veins.

Every touch from him made her weak in the knees, even though they'd been officially together for a week now. They'd grown closer much faster than she realized in that time, spending their evenings at sunset walking around the small village, talking and laughing. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be happy—to feel actual joy. And though the grief still lingered overhead for them both, they took comfort in one another and that was enough for now.

She continued picking her herbs, humming a tune to herself as she thought of her handsome warlock. Suddenly, she heard the words of her tune being sung aloud behind her in that ever recognizable deep voice.

"As I walk'd thro' the meadows **,** To take the fresh air, the flowers were blooming and gay; I heard a fair damsel so sweetly asinging, Her cheeks like the blossom in May." Merlin continued to sing the song with a smile on his face as he came closer, his hands on the strap of the travel bag slung over his shoulder. "Said I, Pretty maiden, how came you here, In the meadows this morning so soon **?"**

She stood up to greet him, beaming and continued the song in response. "The maid she replied: For to gather some may, For the trees they are all in full bloom."

He sang the next verse as he closed the gap between them, plucking a white flower from her basket, his blue eyes full of mirth. **"** Said I: Pretty maiden, shall I go with you, To the meadows to gather some may?" He took the flower and traced it along her cheek.

Della blushed and laughed, taking the flower and casting her eyes down demurely. "O no, sir, she said, I would rather refuse, For I fear you would lead me astray." She looked back up at him with a teasing smile.

He chuckled, his voice going quieter. "Then I took this fair maid by the lilywhite hand; On the green mossy bank we sat down; And I placed a kiss on her sweet rosy lips—" he paused and leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek as he touched his lips to hers. "While the small birds were singing around."

Della couldn't stop smiling. "Well that was unexpected," she said quietly, still holding his hands, their foreheads nearly touching. "But I doubt you came all the way out here to serenade me."

Merlin smiled and made a face in mock offense. "And what if I did, hmm? Perhaps I just wanted to sing a love song to my pretty maiden."

Della rolled her eyes and giggled. "First off, you only started singing when you heard the tune I was humming," she said. "Second, you have your travel bag with you. You wouldn't be taking that just to come help gather herbs."

He sighed playfully. "Ah, can't pull anything past you, can I?"

Della shook her head. "So. Are you going to tell me where you're going or do I have to just stand here and wonder?"

"I'm off to Engerd. I have a thing or two I wanted to pick up."

"Such as?" Della inquired.

He smiled that endearing half grin of his. "Well, you'll just have to wait and see." He kissed her once more, slow and lingering. "I just wanted to say goodbye—and maybe take a kiss or two for the journey."

"So there we have the real reason," she said.

"As good a reason as any," he teased. "I'd travel over all the Five Kingdoms just to have one kiss from you."

Della rolled her eyes at his obvious flirting. "Now you're just being silly."

"That's just part of my charm," he said, winking. He let go of her hands and clasped his together in front of his mouth and uttered a word. " _Blóstma."_ He opened his hand, showing a small red rose in his palm. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "A rose for my fair May bloom."

Della took the rose and felt her cheeks warm. "You never cease to amaze me," she said.

This time, it was his turn to turn red at her compliment. She knew he wasn't accustomed to hearing such things and she was endeavoring to change that. She wanted to make sure he knew just how appreciated he was, even if it would take him some time to get used to hearing it.

"Thank you," he said. "I could say the same for you." He kissed her gently on the forehead and ran a palm over her hair. "I ought to get going. I'll see you in a few hours, right? Maybe you could make some of that split pea soup?" He asked the last part tentatively.

She smiled. "Of course," she said. "You'll have something to look forward to when you get back."

"Oh, I already am," his eyes focused on her lips. She playfully hit his shoulder as he turned and walked away down the forest path, whistling the tune as he walked. His whistling faded with the accompanying sound of the whirlwind from his teleport spell.

She sighed dreamily, turning the rose in her hand. He'd managed to conjure one without thorns. The little thoughtful gestures like that warmed her heart.

She tucked the thornless rose in her hair and went back to picking chamomile, unable to stop smiling. Just a few more and she would have enough to replenish her store of the tonic she used on Owen, though she'd have to find creative way to store it without the bottles.

Perhaps Merlin could help her—

The image of a galloping horse suddenly appeared at the edge of her mind. Her breath caught as she felt the ever familiar unwelcoming invisible fog slowly encase her.

"No!" She cried, crumpling over onto the ground, clutching her head. Not now. Not out here, alone where anyone could find her. Yet no matter how much she fought, the mist infused itself around her mind. Dizziness assaulted her as her senses were shifted to another place and moment in time.

 _A horse clad in the regalia of a knight of Camelot. The knight edged the horse forward to an all too familiar clearing—the village of Ealdor in the distance._

 _He ran a hand through his curly blonde hair, determination in his eyes as he edged his horse towards the village._

Della's heart beat faster in trepidation. Not him. By the gods, not Leon.

 _Leon sat in the cottage across from Hunith. "When will he return?" He asked._

 _"Not much longer now," Hunith said, a hesitant smile on her face._

A new scene flashed in her mind. _Merlin was there, his eyes full of hesitation. He looked as if he wished he could turn around and run out the door in which he came._

" _Hello, Merlin," Leon's voice was restrained and monotone. "It's been awhile."_

 _"Sir Leon." Merlin's voice and countenance were guarded. "May I ask why you made such a long journey here?" Merlin asked._

 _Leon stood up and handed him a letter. "From Guinevere." His voice was stilted. "At least she was afforded the decency of a farewell."_

Della couldn't help but feel anger course through her at his words. That arrogance hadn't left in the years since she'd last seen him.

She tried to focus more on the scene, to see what else would be said. But she wasn't strong enough to maintain it and the scene shifted again, this time outside.

 _Leon was talking with little Owen, though she couldn't make out what was being said. Suddenly, his face looked over at Merlin, who stood behind him, a mask of confusion on his face._

 _"Tell me more about this guest of yours."_

Then, the vision ended, just as suddenly as it had come on. For once, she wished she could conjure the picture again in her mind, to see further forward. She focused on the quickly receding fog, trying to reach out and call it back. For the briefest of moments, Leon's face appeared in her mind again, but she was unable to hear any words that came from his mouth. She couldn't maintain the vision and the image faded so quickly that the immediate nausea that often accompanied the end hit her with more force than usual.

She retched what remained of her breakfast, and kept vomiting until her stomach had nothing but bile. She shook uncontrollably as the rose from Merlin tumbled out of her hair.

Confusion assaulted her. This was the first vision she had that didn't end in mayhem or death. What good did this serve if only to show her ahead of time that her unwelcomed past was coming for a visit?

She let out a yell of frustration. What the hell use was this vision?

She picked up her rose with shaky fingers and leaned against a nearby oak. Her forehead was damp with perspiration, loose strands of hair sticking to her face and the base of neck.

She took a few steadying breaths, trying to acclimate to her surroundings. Each vision took more out of her, even one as seemingly non-threatening as this. Was her curse of foresight growing more? By the heavens above, she wished that weren't the case.

Della smoothed the now wrinkled petals of her rose, concentrating on the texture. She wished Merlin were here right now, sitting next to her, his comforting arms around her. Tears pricked her eyes as she continued to rub her finger over a petal. Why did Leon have to come here? She hoped she'd never have to see his face again after that day in the woods, prayed that would be the last time their paths nearly crossed.

And now it looked as if he'd discover her whereabouts. The last thing on this earth she wanted.

She thought back to the vision. It was going to happen today, that much she knew. Merlin was gone on his errand and she hadn't been back to the cottage in the images. He'd come delivering a letter from the queen for Merlin, and apparently, felt the need to have to confront him about his refusal to return to Camelot. And Merlin would have to face his past yet again, to relive the pain of his departure and the reasons for not returning once more.

She wished with all her heart she could prevent that. But if there was one thing she knew, her visions would happen regardless of what she did.

Suddenly, she realized she herself did not feature in the vision. She watched as an observer, like the majority of the ones she had in the past.

Perhaps this vision wasn't as much of a curse as she'd thought. It warned her of his arrival, and from what she saw, there was no guarantee Leon would see her this day.

Yet, that would leave Merlin to face Leon alone. She should be there for him, to support him as he had done for her so much already.

But that would mean confronting the past she tried so long and so hard to keep buried and forgotten. How long had she struggled against the thoughts to just give up and let sorrow consume her? It nearly had once and she wasn't brave enough to face that again. Her now empty stomach churned in fear at the thought.

She leaned her head back against the tree. _Go back or run, go back or run._ The words matched the increasingly faster cadence of her heart.

She stared blankly into the green of the forest around her. More memories of the past assailed her: Uther's verdict of execution for her mother, her cry of anguish echoing in the Great Hall, and Leon-his face stoic, unmoving. _She used magic. The king had made his judgement. There's nothing more that can be done._ The words he'd said to her when she begged him to speak to Uther.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. "I can't do it," she said aloud. Gods have mercy on her, but she wasn't strong enough to face him. Fear won out this day.

She got up on shaky feet and steadied herself against the tree. She wouldn't return back to the village until she knew Leon was far away from here. "I'm sorry, Merlin," she said, dropping her dirty and damaged rose to the ground. "I guess you won't be getting that stew today."

* * *

The song from earlier that morning remained on Merlin's lips as he made his way back to Ealdor, new goods in hand. He smiled, imagining the look on her face when he'd bring back his surprise. His travel bag was heavy with the various sized empty glass tonic bottles. He knew she didn't bring many back with her from Havenswood and hoped this might help.

He also managed to find something else: a bolt of beautifully woven linen cloth, the color of the deepest green of the forest. He immediately thought of Della, how the color would look paired with her hair and brown eyes. He knew she'd only had the two simple light brown dresses, one of which still had a patched up hole from her arrow wound. He wanted her to have something new and promising.

He stopped just on the edge of the forest clearing and picked a sprig of lavender. He smiled and tucked it in the twine of the package holding her new gift, his heart light with happiness in anticipation of seeing her again. _You are utterly besotted,_ his mother had told him that morning after Della left.

 _Yes, I am._ He'd replied. And it was a glorious feeling. He never thought anyone could make him feel such joy again.

His stomach interrupted his thoughts and he smiled thinking about the meal that Della had promised. He quickened his steps as he came within sight of the village, greeting his neighbors with a jovial wave and smile.

"Happy again, eh Merlin?" his old friend Geralt said, calling from the field edge. "Perhaps it's related to a certain pretty redhaired young woman?" he winked.

Merlin chuckled. "Perhaps."

Geralt waved a finger at him. "See, didn't I tell you? I knew you had eyes for her the moment you came back to Ealdor. Granted, the whole village did but—"

"Yes, yes, I know," Merlin said. "You all were right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pretty maiden to return home to."

"Oh, of course, don't let me stop you," Geralt said smiling back.

Merlin waved and began to head down the street towards the cottage, a smile on his face.

He turned the corner on the small village street and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. _What the hell…_

A horse was tied on the post just outside of their cottage. Not any horse—Sir Leon's chestnut brown mare. He knew all the knight's horses well from their countless journeys. Wasn't he the one who often had to take care of each one every night while on their quests?

His thoughts immediately returned to Della. By the gods, was she home when that unwelcomed part of her past just showed up at the door? Merlin muttered another curse as he now ran to the cottage.

As he approached, his mind reeled with questions as to why Leon was here. Gaius said he'd figured out that he was a sorcerer. Surely he didn't ride a day and a half to confront him on that. Could something be wrong in Camelot? Or with Gwen or Gaius?

He opened the door, ignoring the heavy feeling in his stomach as he entered the cottage. His eyes adjusted to the darkened interior as he saw Leon sitting at the table with his mother. He quickly scanned the cottage for Della.

She was nowhere to be found.

 _Where are you, Della?_

"Hello, Merlin," Leon said. His expression was more stoic than usual; gone was the former relaxed air Leon once had around him. "It's been awhile."

"Sir Leon," Merlin said, putting down his bag and parcel. What should he say now? Leon seemed to be at a loss for what to say next as well. The silence between them was deafening.

Hunith stood up from her seat and walked to the door, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'll leave you two to talk," she said.

Merlin stopped her before she left, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "Do you know where Della is?" he asked. "Was she here when he arrived?"

Hunith shook her head. "I haven't seen her since she left this morning."

 _Damn it._ Where could she be? Did she see Leon coming?

Hunith squeezed his arm. "Perhaps she's visiting Ceridwen. I'll check for you."

Merlin nodded and she left, leaving him alone with Leon.

He cleared his throat and walked towards the table. He went right to it, skipping any uncomfortable small talk. "So," he said, "May I ask why you made such a long journey here?"

Leon stood up and handed him a letter. "From Guinevere." His voice was stilted. "She asked that this be delivered to you. At least she was afforded the decency of a farewell."

The words cut him to the heart. He sighed, knowing his departure had been the cause of Leon's coldness. "I am sorry for that," he said. "But surely you can understand why I decided not to return. I have no place in Camelot anymore. What use is a king's manservant when there's no king?" His voice broke with the last words.

"You were much more than just a servant, Merlin," Leon said, the light of new recognition mixed with hesitation in his eyes. "Only now do I realize just how much you kept hidden, for so long and from so many. To keep your true self hidden from everyone, even while so close to Uther and then Arthur…" He shook his head.

Merlin swallowed. "I had no choice," he said. "I'd have been executed without a second thought under Uther. And Arthur…" he shut his eyes, remembering the same hurt and betrayal and misunderstanding in his eyes as were reflected in Leon's now. "He understood at the end, but only just. If he had lived, I'm still not sure I'd have told him. The fear and uncertainty of anyone who had magic was so ingrained in him."

"Can you blame him for that?" Leon said. "After all our _years_ fighting off various sorcery threats, Morgause, Morgana…can you see why he felt that way? Why I feel that way?"

"I don't blame him or you for that matter," Merlin said. "I blame Uther and his relentless pursuit of anyone who even came near magic and was executed without mercy." He paused, seeing Leon's further hesitance. "For so many years, Uther's purge spread fear and distrust. It helped breed people like Morgause and Morgana. Uther's fear of magic was so deep, he killed children for it. _Children_ , Leon. And plenty of innocents who had the misfortune of using magic to heal, to bring good."

Leon remained silent and looked away, and Merlin could see him trying to come to terms with what his former king had done. "I know that Uther's methods were extreme," Leon said, finally meeting his eyes again. "And there were times I questioned such harsh actions, especially on those who did not use it for ill. I know I watched people die that never should've…" He trailed off, his eyes focusing on a distant past and Merlin wondered for a moment if he was thinking about whatever incident connected him to Della. He stopped and switched the topic. "Did anyone else know your secret, besides Gaius?"

Merlin was taken off guard briefly and hesitated. "One other. Lancelot." The pain of his death—twice—was still a raw wound, especially after everything that happened with Gwen and his shade's appearance.

Leon stiffened. "You shared it with someone who betrayed Arthur?"

Merlin sighed. "That wasn't Lancelot. It was a shade, a shadow of him, raised by Morgana. And Gwen was enchanted."

Leon's eyes widened in disbelief. Merlin hoped Lancelot's name could be cleared now, though Arthur would never know, which pained him. "And he knew for years, just after he killed the griffin...I enchanted his lance which killed that creature and he heard me say the spell."

Leon sat down heavily on the bench. He stayed silent for a time, staring off in the distance. "All those times when I thought that luck or fate saved us…when it was really you, protecting us—protecting Camelot from the shadows. If anyone ever deserved to be a knight, it's you."

Merlin felt his face burn. Lancelot once said something similar. "I'm not sure about that," he said. "You've seen my skill with the sword—mediocre at best." He half joked.

Leon smiled. "But who needs a sword when you can call lightning from the heavens?"

Merlin's smile faded, remembering the two times he had to use such power—and the devastation it caused both times. "Would you have figured I was the sorcerer at Camlann if you hadn't gone to Havenswood?"

"No," Leon said. He seemed to be considering his next words. "Would you have told us—Percival and I—if we hadn't?"

Merlin hesitated. "I don't think so." He'd lied to him enough already, and the least he deserved was an honest answer.

Leon nodded. "I am sorry, Merlin, that you felt you couldn't trust us, despite everything we've been through together with our band of brothers over the years." He heard the pain in his voice and saw the hurt in his eyes. "And then for you to disappear after Camlann like that without a goodbye. You may not have thought yourself a knight, but we felt your loss as surely as any other comrade—if not more so. Can you see why I question our friendship?"

Merlin swallowed the rising lump in his throat. "I can. It was wrong of me to not send you letters along with Gwen's and Gaius. I guess…I guess I felt that you wouldn't want anything to do with me after my failure to protect Arthur."

"That is the furthest from the truth," Leon said, looking at him incredulously. "You've done more for him than any of us. You did not fail him, Merlin. It was fate that he died that day, even if we are all loathe to believe it."

Merlin said nothing. Leon didn't know of the years of prophecy that he'd single-handedly failed to fulfill due to his poor decisions. But he would remain silent on that regard.

"I'm trying to put myself in your position," Leon said, breaking the heavy silence which descended upon the room again. "What would I do if I had your power? What would I have done if I couldn't save Arthur? And I'm slowly seeing why you kept such a secret, why you took the burden of the world on your shoulders. Perhaps I would've left Camelot as well."

"You have no idea how much I hated keeping that part of myself from everyone," Merlin said. "But after awhile, it just became my life - going around as two separate people, living like a shadow."

Leon nodded. "Well, I am glad to finally be able to see a glimpse of the true person you are."

"I'm still the same person you knew. Just with a little more power, " Merlin said with a smirk.

Leon returned the grin. "That's a relief." His smile faded. "But, I have to be honest. Magic still makes me…uneasy. And I'm still unsure if it would be completely wise to allow it to be practiced unchecked."

"I think that's wise," Merlin said. "The people aren't ready for it yet. Too many still are fearful of magic, and recent events have only made that fear more widespread. It will take time and effort for magic to be accepted again, not only in Camelot, but here in Essetir and throughout the land." He paused. "Though I do hope that a death sentence is not the punishment for it."

"On that accord, I agree," Leon said. "As does Guinevere. She has been in talks with the Council about easing the ban's punishment."

Merlin smiled, relief and gratitude filling his heart. "That's a promising start." He paused. "I would appreciate it though if you could keep my secret a little longer. Even here, my childhood home, no one knows about me. And even if they do, I'm not sure how well it'll go over." He thought back on the events with Nerys and Della and could just imagine that old woman's glee at finding out he was a sorcerer.

Leon nodded. "I understand. I have already given Guinevere my word; I will give you my word too, on my honor as a knight of Camelot, I will tell no other your secret."

"Thank you," Merlin said. He sighed. "I really am sorry for you finding out the way you did. I'm sorry I hurt you, and Percival. I still view you both as good friends, even if I didn't treat you as such."

Leon nodded. "I know that now. And I accept your apology. And please accept mine in return. For all the times in the past I made you doubt your regard and importance."

"Of course," Merlin said, feeling a bit overwhelmed at Leon's apology. "That means more to me than you realize."

Leon clapped him on the shoulder in solidarity and stayed silent. What else could be said? Merlin felt that at least now, they could part in peace as friends.

"So. Is there really no way to convince you to return with me to Camelot? I'm sure Guinevere would make a position for you on the Council."

Merlin took a breath. The thought of returning was still too painful for him to consider. To go back, to see that empty chair where Arthur should be, but wasn't…

"I appreciate the offer and I do miss everyone but..." He shook his head. "I can't. Perhaps someday, but not yet." He smiled sadly. "You see, Leon, I'm not as brave as you think." He remembered his trip back the week prior and how close to breaking down again he'd been.

Leon nodded solemnly. "I understand. I will not push you further on it. I hope that someday you'll reconsider." He stood up again and Merlin followed suit. "I'll be heading back today. Your mother offered me a place to stay tonight, but I think I'll head back towards Engerd for the evening."

Merlin held back a sigh of relief. That certainly would not have gone well with Della—who still hadn't returned. "I wish you a safe journey back, my friend."

Leon nodded. "And you a prosperous life here in Ealdor." He brought Merlin into a quick embrace and let go.

They went out the door into the bright sun and Leon walked towards his horse. He stopped though and smiled, as young Owen stood next to the horse with Ceridwen, who was holding his hand. Owen jumped up and down when he saw Leon. Merlin again noticed Della was nowhere nearby.

"Mama, look, a real knight!" He said, excited as could be.

Leon chuckled and Merlin held back his own smile. Leon gave a quick smile to Ceridwen—and Merlin saw a light blush tinge her cheeks—as he knelt down to Owen's eye level. "Good day to you, my fine fellow," he said. "How are you?"

"Good!" Owen said, excitedly. He looked up at Ceridwen, a question in his eyes. Ceridwen nodded once and he continued. "Mama said I had to wait and ask you if I could pet your horse. May I?"

Leon chuckled again. "Of course!" He said. He led him over to the mare. "She really likes to be pet right here," he said, stroking the mare's side.

Owen gently pet the mare, a huge smile on his face. "She's so soft," he said, in awe. "And BIG! Is it scary to ride her?"

"Not at all," Leon said. Merlin watched an idea flicker across Leon's face. "If it is all right with your mother, I can show you."

Owen's jaw dropped in sheer excitement. He looked up at Ceridwen. "Can I, Mama? Can I? I promise I'll be good forever if you let me!"

Ceridwen laughed. "I highly doubt that," she said. She looked up at Leon and smiled, relaxed in her countenance. "But yes, you may take a ride. A short one." She added, and Leon nodded once.

Owen was so excited, he nearly jumped in exultation. He shifted from foot to foot in a happy little dance. Merlin wished Della could be here to see this; his joy at the simple moment was curtailed with worry for her.

Leon helped Owen onto the mare's back. "All right, now hold tight while I walk her to the end of the street and back."

Owen nodded as he gripped the mare's mane and Leon led her down the street.

"He'll never stop talking about this now," Ceridwen said, lightheartedly. She looked back at Merlin. "I didn't know you knew such handsome knights. And kind too."

Merlin smiled. "There's a few."

"I can't imagine what Camelot would be like compared to here," she said. "And you won't go back?"

Merlin sighed. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe someday. I can't now though."

Ceridwen nodded. "You were close to Arthur, weren't you? Closer than just his servant." She paused and continued. "I mean, not many royals would travel to their servant's hometown to save the people from bandits."

Merlin nodded. "Yes. He was one of a kind. I saw him like the brother I never had."

"I'm sorry," she said. "The world has far too few people like that, especially those in power."

"That it does," Merlin said. There would never be another Arthur and that pained him the most.

Ceridwen spoke again but changed the topic. "So, Hunith came by earlier looking for Della," she said. "I haven't seen her all day. Is she all right?"

Truthfully, he wasn't sure and the anxiety on that front was hard to hide. "She's probably still out gathering herbs," he said. "I'm sure she'll come back later."

Ceridwen squinted at him, as if she could tell he was lying, but she didn't say anything. "Yes, you're probably right." She said nothing more as Leon came strolling back with Owen.

"Did you have fun?" Ceridwen asked as Leon helped Owen off the horse.

"Oh yes! It was the best thing EVER!" he said. His enthusiasm made Leon chuckle and Merlin smiled at his exuberance. It had taken his mind off the heavy topics discussed earlier.

"What do you say to Sir Leon, Owen?" Ceridwen asked.

Owen turned and smiled. "Thank you so much for letting me ride your horse, sir!"

Leon chuckled again. "Of course. It was my pleasure."

Owen then tugged at his mother's apron. "Do you think Della will come back in time to meet Sir Leon?"

The smile on Merlin's lips faded as Owen mentioned her. _Damn it._

A shadow of recognition crossed Leon's face, his smile frozen. "Is she one of your friends?" he asked. His eyes locked with Merlin's for a moment.

Owen nodded. "She's new here. She came with Merlin. She's a grown up like you though. She helped heal me when I was really, really sick. No one else could but she did!" He then beckoned Leon to come closer and lowered his voice—though still loud enough for Merlin to hear every word clearly. "Lots of people think she used magic!"

Merlin watched as the color drained from Leon's face. There was no mistaking Leon's reaction.

Ceridwen immediately pulled her son back. "You'll have to excuse him," she said quickly. "He will repeat anything the townsfolk say. Even if it's wrong." She looked at her son, who bit his lip. "We don't spread rumors about other people, Owen, remember?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"Well, she sounds like a special friend indeed," Leon said, his voice stilted. "Would your friend be around perchance so I could meet her?"

Merlin jumped in, hoping to steer the topic away. "She's unfortunately out picking herbs, so I don't think she'll be back in time before you leave."

Leon looked at him curiously and Merlin could tell he had a hundred questions for him—questions he didn't want to answer.

Ceridwen looked between them, apparently sensing something was off. "I'm sure Sir Leon has a long journey ahead of him, dear one. We shouldn't keep him."

Owen nodded and looked back up at Leon. "Goodbye, Sir Leon. It was very nice to meet you."

"And an honor to meet you, lad," he said. He nodded at Ceridwen. "You as well, mistress."

Ceridwen smiled and nodded back, a quick tinge of pink dusting her cheeks as she took Owen's hand and headed back for their cottage.

Merlin waited with baited breath, knowing Leon wouldn't leave as easily now.

Leon turned back to him, meeting him head on. "Tell me more about this guest of yours," he said.

Merlin shrugged. "There's not much to tell," he said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Leon took a few steps closer, closing the distance between them. "You're hiding something," he said. "You must've used all your powers of deception keeping that secret of yours because in every other regard, you're a terrible liar."

"I'm not sure why you're so interested," Merlin countered. "Unless of course, you think she's someone of importance to you." Merlin crossed his arms.

Leon looked away, a muscle in his jaw clenching. "I can't be sure but her name…it's the nickname of someone I once knew who was very dear to me. And the fact she healed that young boy on the verge of death…" He shook his head. "I'd never thought I'd ever see her again."

Merlin's mind raced with his own questions, uncertain if he was ready for the answer. "And who is she to you, Leon?"

Leon swallowed and his voice was so quiet, Merlin almost didn't hear him. "My sister."

* * *

 **A/N:** A few notes for you, dear readers.

If anyone is curious about the song Merlin and Della are singing at the beginning, it's a traditional English folk song called As I Walked through the Meadows. The version I used as inspiration was sung by Magpie Lane (on YouTube) but there are a few live versions scattered around online too.

The town Merlin is visiting was featured in the episode The Last Dragonlord, when he and Arthur were searching for Balinor in Essetir. I looked at a Camelot map online and figured that would be the closest "big" town to Ealdor that wasn't Camelot.

Anyone recognize the rose spell? Yes, it's the same one from the Lady of the Lake episode. Only now he knows how to conjure one up without thorns.

And… I know a few of you may be quite angry at Della for her decision not to go back to stand by Merlin as he confronted Leon. Unfortunately she let the fear and pain from the past take over. I know, poor Merlin She's not as perfect as he thought…

Did anyone see Leon's connection with her coming? More to come in the next chapter! And yes, I promise that Merlin will return to Camelot someday (sooner than he thinks).

Thanks again to my fabulous beta readers, Requiem17 and Jewelsmg. I think I may have killed poor Jewels with that ending though ;) And thank you to my faithful readers and reviewers!


	14. Sins of the Brother

Merlin tried to grasp what was just revealed. "You have a _sister?!"_

Leon nodded once, barely perceptible. "We have the same father. He married my stepmother—Della's mother—when I was no older than Owen."

Merlin's head spun. Leon had a sister—who just so happened to be the girl he was now courting.

He decided to leave that bit out for the moment.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a life-changing secret." Merlin hesitated. "But how do I know we are talking about the same person?" he asked. "I'm sure there are others out there with the same name."

"Perhaps," Leon said. "She only ever went by Della by myself and our parents. Everyone in court called her Lady Gwendolyn or Lady Lynne."

The names were news to Merlin, but it made sense that she wouldn't have gone by either once she left court. Who else in Camelot remembered her? _Everyone,_ Merlin thought. Gwen. Gaius. Even Arthur. And no one had said a word.

"To be certain," Merlin said. "Tell me what she looks like."

"It's been over ten years. She was 15 when I saw her last." Seeing Merlin remain silent, he sighed and continued. "She's of average height. Her hair is similar to mine," he said, running a hand through his blonde locks, "but with more red, especially when the sun hits it." He smiled sadly. "She always had a bit of a wit to her too. Quick and sassy remarks that always got her into trouble. Reminds me of you in that way."

 _Damn it._ That was Della alright. And now that he studied Leon standing before him, he saw a slight hint of resemblance.

Leon must've seen the recognition on his face. "It is her. I can see it in your eyes."

Merlin couldn't hide it any longer. He nodded. "Sounds like the same Della I know."

Leon exhaled, and sat down with a heavy thud on the stone bench nearby. He'd always been so stalwart, resolute, unshakable. Merlin had never seen him so unsettled before.

"I never thought I'd see or hear from her again," Leon said, his voice barely above that of whisper. "It's as if she's come back from the dead."

Merlin sat next to him, the questions filling his mind. "But why did you _never_ mentioned her—or anyone else for that matter? What happened?"

"It's complicated," Leon said, quickly brushing the question aside. "But I'm wondering how you ended up meeting her? And how did she come to be here, of all places?"

Merlin knew Leon was deftly trying to push the topic aside, but answered his question.

"I met her in the woods after I left Avalon," Merlin said. _She was nearly dead when I found her being attacked by Saxons. And oh yeah, her village was nearly all but destroyed thanks to me. And they kicked her out due to sorcery._ Somehow he didn't think that was the best story to tell him right now. "She lived in Havenswood, nearby the lake." He assumed Leon knew enough of what occurred there to put the rest of the pieces together.

"She was the sorceress then," Leon said. "The one that left with you after the Saxons attacked." He shook his head. "To think, all these years, I thought she was on the other side of the world, when in reality she was less than a day's walk from Camelot. And now she's here with you."

"Yes, well, I've found that destiny often likes to play games with us," Merlin said.

Leon grunted in acknowledgement. "So," he said, "do you know when she'll return? From gathering herbs?"

Merlin scratched the back of his head. "I…don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Leon asked. "You seem to know enough about her to know her whereabouts. Surely you have some idea?"

"Not necessarily," Merlin said. "She may have seen you heading into town." _Or foresaw him coming,_ Merlin thought. By the gods, he hoped she hadn't had a vision while she was alone in the woods. But an unsettling feeling in his stomach made him lean towards that presumption.

"Do you know where she might be?" Leon asked, the words tinged with an edge of impatience.

"She could be anywhere around here," Merlin said. "And if she doesn't want to be found, she won't be. Look at how she managed to stay hidden so close to Camelot."

Leon looked dejected, desperation evident in his tone. "If you have even the smallest inclination where she might be, please... she's the only family I have left."

Guilt laced through Merlin as he heard Leon's plea but if he ever hoped to discover what occurred between the estranged siblings, now was the time to ask.

"If you want me to help you find her," Merlin started, "I need to know what happened between you two."

"What difference would that make?" Leon asked. "Why does it concern you?"

Annoyance at him evading answering yet again rippled through him. "Because I don't want to see her hurt," Merlin said.

Leon studied him carefully, locking his eyes with him. "You're very protective of her."

"She's been through a lot recently, so yes, I am," Merlin said, keeping eye contact with him. Let him come to whatever conclusion on his own.

"All right," Leon said slowly. He shifted in his seat and looked as if he were struggling to figure out how to start. "It was so long ago and I was young and naïve," he said. "I did what my king commanded of me, even if I doubted it."

Merlin didn't like where this was going already. But he knew that all too well—hadn't he seen that same focus and drive in other knights, in Arthur?

Leon continued. "Della was involved in a riding accident and was paralyzed from the neck down. There was no hope of recovery." He let out a breath. "But then, she started to regain some movement. Within a week, she was walking again." He looked at Merlin, his green eyes unblinking. "There was no question it was magic. Gaius had done everything beforehand to heal her, with no success. Uther quickly took notice."

Merlin was slightly confused. "So…did Uther suspect Della of healing herself?"

"Initially, he wasn't sure what to believe," Leon said. "Della and my mother were both brought in for questioning, much to my dismay. It didn't take long for Mother to confess. She was desperate to protect Della from any suspicion." Leon said. His words came faster. "As you know, Uther had no tolerance for any kind of magic, even if it was used for good. He sentenced her to burn at the stake." Leon's voice wavered at those last words.

Merlin's heart sank. Was it any wonder she'd kept this quiet? He couldn't imagine watching his mother be condemned to die. Knowing Della, he was certain she didn't take such a judgment easily.

But why did she harbor such negative feelings towards Leon? He studied the knight, noticing beads of perspiration forming on his brow. Of course recalling such a tale was distressing for him yet he wondered what exactly Leon _wasn't_ telling him.

"After she was sentenced, Uther put me in charge of guarding her, " Leon said. "He did so knowing that if she managed to escape, I would be the one at fault. He did it as a test of my loyalty—to him, to Camelot—or to my family."

"To choose between your family and him was unconscionable." Just when he thought he could think no less of the tyrant…

"He was the King, Merlin," Leon said. "My father was one of Uther's most trusted knights and I endeavored to follow him. He taught me above all else, loyalty and service to Camelot and the King." He swallowed. "I was blinded by my ambition, my desire for honor. You can guess what I chose, to my everlasting shame," Leon said. "Mother understood why. She didn't blame me for it. She knew my loyalties were divided and she blamed herself for putting me in such a position."

He was disheartened to hear it, yet at the same time, not surprised. Much of that unquestioning loyalty still remained when Merlin had first met him. "So, Della ran off then? After the execution?" Merlin asked, pushing back his negative thoughts.

"No," Leon said. "She broke our mother out by casting a temporary sleeping spell on the guards and myself." He shook his head. "Uther was furious. He sent me and three other knights to apprehend them. We caught up with them on the edge of the Darkling Woods." Leon looked away, his eyes focusing on a distant past. "There was a struggle. In the ensuing fight, Sir Hector, Sir Bors and our mother were killed." He didn't elaborate on the details, and Merlin didn't pry.

Leon took a steadying breath. "Our mother passed away in Della's arms. Her cry still echoes in my dreams." He quickly brushed away a stray tear with the back of his gloved hand.

Merlin shut his eyes, his heart aching for Leon and the terrible position he was put in, and for Della and the loss of not only her mother but her brother and the life she once had. That sorrow haunted her still, and assumed it was connected to everything that happened in Havenswood. But it had gone far deeper.

"So how did Della manage to escape?" Merlin asked quietly.

His question broke through Leon's grief. He straightened his posture, his former stoic demeanor returning. "We couldn't let Della go after all that had occurred. When we tried to apprehend her she attacked us."

 _She had no other choice,_ he thought.

"She let out an ear piercing, earth rattling cry. The force of it was so strong, it threw both Sir Lucan and I in the air and some distance back. The shock of the landing knocked him out immediately and I lost consciousness shortly after. I'll never forget the look in her eyes and her last words to me. She told me I was dead to her. In some ways, I was dead to myself after that day."

What could he say after hearing such a heavy story? So many feelings warred within him. Anger at Uther's sheer cruelty, and sorrow mixed with disappointment at the choices both Leon and Della were forced to make.

Leon noticed his silence. "I would understand if you chose never to speak to me again after this," he said. "I am not as honorable as you might've thought." He stared at the ground, lost in his thoughts again. Merlin couldn't remember another time he'd ever seen Leon look so vulnerable and broken.

Merlin sighed, carefully considering his next words. "You made a terrible decision, with long lasting consequences," he said. "Yet I am the last one who can judge you for it. " How many destiny altering choices had he made over the years and with far worse consequences? He shut his eyes, feeling that ever present shadow of grief threatening to take hold. "We cannot change the past no matter how much we wish we could. All we can do is look forward and hope our past decisions give us better judgment for the future."

Leon gave him a sad smile. "You speak with great wisdom, my friend. No wonder Arthur thought so much of your advice."

The mention of Arthur sent an all too familiar pang of regret through him. Regret that would likely never leave no matter how much time passed.

"I'm glad I was good for something now and then besides polishing his armor." He forced a smile despite the ache that remained in his chest and stood up from his spot on the stone bench, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. "Anyway, I'm willing to help you try and find her."

Leon smiled widely and he brought Merlin into a surprisingly strong hug, which knocked the breath out of his lungs. "Thank you, my friend."

Merlin coughed, catching his breath. Perhaps destiny was trying to be kind to Leon now. And he shouldn't stand in the way of that. Della would likely not agree with his line of thinking. But he couldn't deny Leon his one chance at healing the rift. Maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to listen.

By the gods he hoped so.

"Don't thank me yet," Merlin said as he pulled out of the embrace. "She may not want anything to do with you." _Or me for bringing you to her,_ he thought.

"I know," Leon said. "I'm prepared for that."

Merlin nodded, unsure if he was ready to face her anger. But first they had to find her. "Let's go," he said. "We'll start where she was gathering herbs this morning."

Leon followed him out of the village as they made their way to the forest. They both remained silent on the short walk there, though the quick jaunt felt much longer. Merlin's thoughts were racing with all the new revelations. He was still digesting the whole Leon-has-a-sister thing. It was just as shocking as it had been when he discovered Morgana was Arthur's sister.

And to think, he'd met Della on that chance encounter in the woods, never having an inkling just how their lives were already so intertwined. _Destiny intervenes yet again,_ he thought.

They made it to the forest's edge and the spot where he'd last seen Della. Heavy thoughts aside, Merlin looked around for any evidence as to which direction she could've gone. Broken stalks of the chamomile were scattered about, as well as the imprint of where she'd been kneeling in the grass, but no visible sign where she was headed.

What's this?" Leon said, picking something up near the toe of his boot. "A thornless rose? That's not natural." His brow furrowed. "I take it Della's more than just a friend to you."

Merlin snatched the dirtied and bruised rose from his hand, annoyed at Leon's questioning of the obvious, and his feelings alternating between concern and hurt for Della. "And you'd be right," he said, not bothering to try and hide it anymore. "Any more questions on that front?"

"I...er, no," Leon said, taken aback by Merlin's short tone and forthright admission. "My apologies. I have no right to play the role of the protective brother anymore."

Merlin shut his eyes, inwardly cursing himself for being so cantankerous in the moment. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just...concerned for her. I'm wondering if she had one of her visions and I've no idea where she could've gone."

"So, she's still having them then?" Leon asked.

"You knew she had the power of foresight?" Merlin asked, somewhat surprised.

Leon nodded. "I found out from Gaius after she left Camelot. He thought she might have had one when she'd fallen from her horse. He told me she had one the year prior, right before our father was killed. Only he and mother knew about it."

Merlin sighed. "Well, she still has the visions, and quite often, actually." He held the rose, turning it in his hand, trying to think of how to find her.

He remembered when his teleporting spell that first night brought him unexpectedly back to the cottage. Della had entered his mind for the briefest of moments. Perhaps it would bring him to her this time.

He thought a moment longer and considered the time he and the knights were lost in the woods surrounding the Dark Tower on their mission to save Guinevere. Perhaps it would work here, to see the path Della had taken, then teleport nearby. He wasn't sure he could combine the two spells successfully, as this time involved finding a person and not a specific destination, but it was the only option at this point.

"I think I know of a way to find her," Merlin said. He saw the hope in Leon's eyes and quickly added, "It's going to require some concentration to figure out where she went from here."

Leon nodded slowly in response. "I understand."

Merlin focused on the silent spell. He took a breath, calling forth the magic that hummed in the woods around him. He surrendered himself to its call as the magic pulled him forward as he transcended time and space. Della's translucent shadow from that morning appeared in his mind's eye and he followed her in the space of an instant as her invisible footsteps twisted and turned throughout the woods, across a meadow and next to a small brook.

Finally, he sensed where she was, envisioning her sitting next to that brook, absentmindedly tossing rocks into a stream.

As quickly as he'd seen her, the magic faded, and he was brought back to his current spot, a slight wave of dizziness taking over him. Leon stood beside him, watching him curiously with bated breath.

"I know where she is," Merlin said. "But she may not be there for long. I can get us there faster if you're willing to use magic."

Leon hesitated for a moment. "If it's safe, then…."

"More or less," Merlin half lied. "I need you to trust me and do as I say, all right?"

Leon's squinted at him in uncertainty at such a statement but he nodded.

"And one more thing: Let me talk with Della first before you make your appearance known, so she isn't caught by surprise."

"That's fine," Leon said, though he could tell the knight's thoughts were elsewhere-probably wondering what kind of spell he was going to be a part of.

"We need to walk further in for me to do this," he said. "It can be a bit loud." Merlin walked ahead and heard Leon's tentative steps and sound of clinking chainmail a few paces behind him. When they got far enough from the village for Merlin's comfort level, he stopped.

"I won't lie to you, this is the first time I've attempted this with another person," Merlin said. "And it may not work. And…."

"And what?" Leon asked.

"You may feel a little disoriented after," Merlin said.

"What kind of spell is this?" Leon asked, his words laced with doubt.

"Teleporting," Merlin said. "It's how I came to Camelot to drop the letters off without anyone besides Gaius noticing."

"And this is the only way?"

Merlin nodded. "I promise this won't hurt. Think of it as new experience."

Leon let out a nervous sigh. "Then I'll take your word for it. Just tell me what to do."

"Stand here," he said, "and link arms with me. Whatever you do, don't let go. I don't know where you'll end up if you do."

"Wonderful," Leon muttered under his breath as he linked arms with Merlin—a little too tightly. Merlin cringed at the knight's strength.

"All right," Merlin said. "Now stand still. I'll incant the spell and it'll happen pretty quickly. Try and keep your focus straight ahead."

Leon nodded once as Merlin started the spell. " _Ic bedyrne un astýre_."

He cleared his mind, focusing on conjuring the invisible road in front of him. The magic pulled them forward as he kept his heart and mind focused on Della. Leon's grip tightened—if that could even be possible—and he heard him utter a few choice words at the sudden sensation of being catapulted within the whirlwind.

It was over almost as quickly as it started. Merlin had chosen to land at a spot up on a ridge a slight distance off from the stream. He hoped the valley would dampen the sound of the wind.

The wind died down and Merlin felt Leon stumble as he tried to maintain his balance. Unfortunately, Leon's unsteady legs gave way and he fell forward in a heap, bringing Merlin face forward in the dirt with him. Much of Leon's weight landed on his forearm and he hissed in pain from the shock.

Merlin managed to extricate himself from Leon's arm as Leon slowly pushed up on his knees. Leon looked on the verge of being sick, his face pale and his brow sweaty. But much to his credit, he managed to withhold any vomiting that might have occurred.

"By the gods, I couldn't tell up from down," Leon said, after taking few deep intakes of breath.

Merlin chuckled, rubbing his aching arm. "It certainly takes some getting used to."

Leon steadied himself on a nearby tree as he got to his feet and shook his head. "I think I'll stick to traveling by horse or foot and leave that manner of travel to you." He laughed uneasily and Merlin laughed in response.

"Merlin? What...what's going on?"

His laughter died in his chest as he heard Della's voice behind him.

* * *

She couldn't believe it. Merlin had found her—and brought Leon with him. All that avoidance for nothing.

When she heard the ever recognizable sound of Merlin's teleportation spell, she made her way up the small valley as fast as possible. She fought with herself all morning for being such a coward, for not being alongside him as he had to confront his past while she still refused to do so. She wanted to apologize.

But nothing prepared her for seeing Leon standing there, laughing with Merlin.

Merlin's face paled when he turned and saw her. He looked between her and Leon, who stood there, just as shocked as she.

She remained frozen, unable to move as anger, fear, and sorrow warred for dominance within her.

"I can explain," Merlin said, already trying to diffuse the situation. "I promise I wasn't trying to surprise you with this."

"Really? Because it looks like it to me," she responded, trying her best to remain calm.

Leon took an uneasy step towards her. "Della...I can't believe it's—"

She put her hand out in front of her to prevent him from coming closer. "Not another step," she said. "Remember what happened last time? I will not hesitate to throw you to the ground again."

Merlin came forward and lightly put his hand on her arm, drawing it down. "He's not here to hurt you."

"His presence is enough to hurt me!" Della said. "What were you thinking, bringing him here to me? Were you even thinking at all?"

He flinched at her verbal lashing. "Of course I was," he said. "You weren't supposed to see him yet. I was going to talk to you first about it, make sure it would be all right. I guess I underestimated how close you were."

"I guess you did," she said, derisively. She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the angry tears from spilling down her cheeks. "You shouldn't have even considered it."

"Don't blame him, sister," Leon interjected. "I begged him to help me find you. When I found out you were in Ealdor, I-"

"I'm not your sister anymore," Della interrupted. "That bond was severed years ago when you stood by and refused to stop your knights from attacking us."

Merlin looked between them, clearly confused. "Wait, what?" He looked at Leon. "You didn't stop them?"

"It happened so fast… She attacked first and they reacted as they'd been trained to do. I didn't think—"

"I will _not_ listen to you justify why you chose the path you did," Della said. "Go back to Camelot, Leon. I don't want to hear another poor excuse!"

She turned away, desperate to put distance between herself and them. But a strong and comforting hand grabbed hers, willing her to stop. She fought against the urge to flee further into the woods and refused to look back at Merlin.

"I know I wasn't there, and I'm just an outsider in all of this, but I'm certain he didn't want your mother to die," Merlin said, his voice low and comforting. "I really believe he wants to make things right between the two of you. He's the only family you have left. I don't want you to look back on this and regret it."

Della shook her head and pointedly looked away, pulling her hand out of his. "What do you know, short of whatever story Leon told you?" Della said, her voice rising.

Leon came a few hesitant steps closer as she looked over Merlin's shoulder at him. "It wasn't just that moment in the woods. It was all the moments leading up to that. " She pushed past Merlin as she addressed Leon. "Or have you conveniently forgotten as you looked away when Mother pleaded with you to speak on her behalf with Uther? And your response? 'I must remain loyal to my oath as a knight.'"

Leon swallowed and she watched as he struggled to form words. "I was a coward," Leon said. "I know now I should've done everything in my power to convince Uther."

"You didn't even _try_ Leon. Not one word against him."

Leon remained silent, keeping his eyes downcast.

Della continued, the fountain of a decade of heartache spewing forth. "You could've helped her and I escape instead of preventing us. You could've come with us."

"I wish it had been that easy," Leon said, becoming the no-nonsense brother she remembered. "You have to understand how difficult it was for me. I couldn't just leave with you. As a knight, Uther wouldn't have let us go easily. He would've done everything in his power to hunt us down. How would we have survived like that?"

She hadn't considered that before but she shook her head, preventing the words from sinking too deeply. "We could've made it work somehow," Della said. "Could've left the country. Something. But you were too cowardly to even consider going against your precious king."

"And I've lived with that regret every day all these years!" He said, the force of his tone startling her. "I've never forgotten about you, Della, not once in all this time. I've always wondered where you were, how you were doing, wished that the gods could grant me another chance to try and make it up to you somehow." He came closer and reached for her hands. She flinched back, not wanting him to touch her.

"Nothing you can ever do will make up for your decision," Della said. She looked him in his eyes, the deep green so much like their father's, unblinking and steady. "Some hurts are too deep to forget or forgive."

Leon broke eye contact and looked away and she knew her words struck him like a blow. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she turned and walked away in the silence of the moment. The air was heavy with the weight of their confrontation and she was desperate to breathe again.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she made her way through the forest back towards the village. For the briefest of moments, she'd seen the loving and supportive brother he once was to her. Was it possible to bring back the bond they once had?

 _No, it isn't._ A sob caught in her chest, all the memories of that horrible time overtaking the good ones. He'd made his choice to side with that tyrant Uther and she could never see him in the same light again.

She wasn't sure how far she went before she heard Merlin calling after her. She kept walking, refusing to look back. But Merlin's long stride made him catch up to her regardless of her increasing speed. Leon wasn't anywhere around, thankfully.

"Della…wait…can you wait for a moment?" Merlin was breathing heavily from running after her.

"I have no reason to stop and nothing more to say," Della said, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She felt the tips of his fingers graze the top of her arm, but she pulled out of his reach.

" _Onbindan."_

The moment she heard the words come from his mouth, her legs stopped. "Damn it, Merlin!" Irritation rippled through her. She was powerless to move against his magic as the invisible bonds locked her to the earth. "What more do you want from me?"

"Just stop and talk with me for a moment," he said.

She refused to look at him. "It's not as if I have a choice in the matter now, do I?" Della said, not even trying to hide the vitriol in each word.

"I'm trying to help you!" he said, clearly exasperated.

"Help I never asked for!" Della shot back. "And why did you even tell him I was here in the first place?"

"I didn't tell him," Merlin said. "Owen mentioned your name and he figured it out from there. I couldn't lie to him anymore. I've done enough of that over the years."

"All right," Della said, "so Owen told him. Yet that still doesn't explain to me why you thought it was a good idea to reunite us. You knew from my reaction seeing him in the woods weeks ago that he makes me uneasy. What possessed you to think it was a good idea?"

"Because that's _all_ I knew!" Merlin said, the color rising in his face. "You refused to tell me _anything_ about that incident, about how you knew him. And I didn't want to push you to tell me. But how was I to know he was your estranged brother? Or the role he played in your mother's death?"

She knew he had a point, but she refused to give in. "You should've left well enough alone!"

Merlin drew a hand over his face, exasperated, and shook his head. "No matter how much it displeases you, Leon's my friend, Della. We've been through a lot over the years but today was the first time I've seen him that broken. It's haunted him all this time, don't you see that?"

No, she would not let his words take root and destroy the wall of anger around her heart. Yet she couldn't forget the look Leon gave her when she said she'd never forgive him. She pushed the image aside, letting the hurt well up within her anew. "And what about me, Merlin? What about how it's haunted _me?_ _"_ She couldn't keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks any longer. "Every time I hear his voice, I hear the screams of my mother echoing in his words. Every time I see his face, I see her die all over again!"

Merlin came up to her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. She didn't fight him as he pulled her into an embrace, the invisible bonds around her legs easing away as she let herself draw comfort from him. "You've kept this locked away for so long, and I understand why. Watching a parent die in front of you…it's never something you forget."

"You didn't watch as your own brother stood by and did nothing to stop it," she mumbled.

"No," he said. "But isn't it exhausting holding onto this grudge?" He replied. "I care about you Della, and don't want to see this pain consume you. You've let the pain fester into hatred and I've seen what that can do to a person, when they become so blinded and controlled by their resentment. It eats away at all the goodness within…." He trailed off and she realized he wasn't talking about her anymore.

She pulled back and looked him straight in the eyes. "So, you think this will make me turn into a heartless monster like _Morgana?_ Just because I won't forgive him? _"_ It was like a knife in the gut, being compared to such a person.

"What?" Merlin looked surprised at her sudden shift. "No, that's not…that's not what I meant!" He shook his head. "I only meant that holding onto anger like this eventually takes its toll. Not that you'd become her! By the gods, Della…" he ran a hand through his hair.

"Perhaps you shouldn't use Morgana as a comparison," Della said, beginning to walk away. "And thanks for the advice. But I still won't forgive him. He made his choice. Let him live with it until he dies."

"Della, please. Don't just walk away from this," Merlin called out.

But she refused to look back.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know, it's been entirely too long since I updated. Consider that break similar to a "mid-season break" that happens with TV shows. :)

This chapter was difficult to write for a number of reasons. I hesitated with the amount of backstory revealed, though I knew it needed to be significant. Still, I ended up cutting a good page of it from the final draft. I was also nervous about making Leon look so unfavorable, however, after watching key episodes in the series (namely the Witchfinder episode in s2) I saw hints of a person who would do whatever their monarch asked of them, even if it was questionable in our eyes (he was key in tearing apart Gaius' chambers looking for evidence of magic ). Though his character had little development over the series, I would like to think as Arthur came to power, he started to see the differences between Uther and Arthur. And he is also learning that magic isn't always the evil that Uther claimed.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I promise, no more 2 month breaks. Thank you again for reading/following/reviewing!


	15. The Rift

Della left Ceridwen's cottage and sighed. She was thankful her friend agreed to let her stay a night or two. After the afternoon's events, she needed space from Merlin.

The sight of Leon's horse next to the cottage stopped her in her tracks. She thought they would've teleported back by now, but perhaps one time teleporting was enough for her magic-adverse brother.

When she walked through the door, Hunith looked up from chopping leeks. "Della! There you are!" She greeted her with a smile and hugged her.

A pang of guilt shot through her. She should've been here to help Hunith like normal; instead she'd hidden in the woods like a coward.

Perhaps she and Leon weren't as different as she once thought.

"Merlin's been looking for you all day," Hunith said.

"I know."

Hunith pulled back, her blue eyes, so much like Merlin's, looking through her as if she could read her very thoughts. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Della let out a broken sigh. "Just an unwelcome visitor from my past," she said. Hunith looked confused and Della continued. "Leon's my brother."

"Oh," Hunith's eyebrows raised in question. "I see the reunion was not a happy one."

"No," Della said. "We… had a falling out years ago." She couldn't muster the strength to tell Hunith the details. Not now. Merlin could fill her in later. "And Merlin and I…got into a bit of an argument about it." She walked over and started folding up her nightclothes. "I need some time away from him for a little while. Ceridwen agreed to let me stay with her for a night or two, until this passes over."

"I understand your reasoning." She didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she helped Della wrap up her bedroll. "You know, you remind me a great deal of myself at your age."

"How so?"

Hunith stared off into the distance, as if traveling back to another time and place. "Once, when Merlin's father was here, we'd gotten into quite the row. To be honest, I can't remember what it was. I only knew I couldn't stay under the same roof as him another moment." She tied the strings around Della's bedroll. "I ended up sleeping the night in old Master Howell's barn. It was the worst night's sleep I ever had. Not because I was in a barn, but my anger and guilt kept me awake. The moment dawn came, I was back here, making up with him." She turned a touch pink in the cheeks and Della didn't press her to know what that making up involved.

"I've seen how you two are with one another and an argument is inevitable with any couple. Sometimes that space is needed after spending so much time together." Hunith handed her the bedroll. "But don't hold onto the anger too long."

Della nodded and stayed silent, trying to put the similarity of Hunith's words with Merlin's earlier ones out of her head. "I promise I'll be back soon," she said, putting her nightclothes in her small travel bag. "Thank you for understanding." She squeezed Hunith's hand.

The moment was broken when Della heard voices outside. She braced herself for the impending confrontation.

Merlin came in with Leon behind him. He stopped just within the doorway, while Leon was a step behind. An awkward silence filled the cottage as they all exchanged wary glances. Whatever good mood she'd been in evaporated at the sight of her brother—who just couldn't seem to take the hint to leave Ealdor already.

Merlin's eyes immediately landed on the bedroll in Della's hands. "Della? What are you—where are you going?"

"Ceridwen's," she said quickly. "I just need some time to sort my thoughts."

"You can't be serious," he said in disbelief. "You're leaving because of _one_ fight?" He walked over and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "Della, please. Just think for a moment. This isn't going to just disappear once Leon leaves. Just talk with him and see—"

"Enough, Merlin!" She hissed. Would he ever give up? "You know, I'd been doing pretty well the past ten years dealing with it in my own way. Until you got involved."

Merlin clenched his jaw. "You can't keep running from this forever."

"Like you're doing by refusing to go back to Camelot?"

Merlin stepped back almost as if he'd been hit. The pain reflected in his eyes immediately made her regret such words—even if it were true. He looked away and bit his lip.

"Go ahead and go then," he said, voice clipped. "I won't stand in your way anymore." He stepped aside looking as defeated and dejected as she'd ever seen him.

Maybe he was right in comparing her to Morgana.

She said nothing more as she walked past him, fighting back the tears and the hollow hole threatening to envelop her.

Leon still stood in the doorway, looking as if he wished he could disappear. _I wish you would._ _All of this drama is your fault._ She glared at him as she pushed by.

She shut her eyes, trying her best to forget that look on Merlin's face.

* * *

Stunned and uncomfortable silence was all that was left in Della's wake. Merlin rubbed his forehead feeling the stirrings of a headache.

But what hurt the most, he couldn't push down. The painful truth of her words had carved out his heart.

Leon finally edged his way into the house. "I should've never asked you to help. I didn't think."

"Don't blame yourself," Merlin said. "I thought she might be angry…but this is a side I've never seen before." It struck him then how much he still didn't know about her, how much she still kept bottled up inside.

"I don't know the whole story," Hunith said and Merlin had almost forgotten his mother had witnessed the whole uncomfortable exchange. "But whatever it is, she's hurting and needs some time to sort her feelings."

"I don't understand," Merlin said. He sat at the table and rubbed his temples. "Why is she pushing me away? I'm only trying to help."

"In this case, distance is the best help you can give." Hunith sat next to him and put her arm around his shoulder. "You've always wanted to fix whatever problem you encounter, sometimes heedless of the consequences."

"Yes, I know, one of my many faults." It came out more spiteful than he'd meant.

Hunith sighed and got back up. "I'll finish making supper. If you want to talk when you're in a better mood, I'm here."

Merlin gritted his teeth. Wonderful, now he'd put his mother in a bad temper. What a spectacular ass he was turning out to be today.

Poor Leon still stood motionless near the door. "I think it's well past the time for me to leave."

"You should at least stay for supper," Hunith said as she dropped the leeks into the pot of boiling water. "Don't you think, Merlin?"

Actually, he agreed with Leon on this account, but he didn't wish to get even more on his mother's bad side for the moment. "She's right," he said. "You should stay."

Leon must've sensed it in his tone. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to risk another confrontation if Della decides to return." That was a poor excuse but Merlin knew how uncomfortable Leon would be if he stayed.

Hunith sensed as well and didn't push. She walked over to him and gave him a firm hug, which took Leon by surprise. "Have a safe journey," she said. "And don't lose hope. Everything will work out in the end."

Leon's eyes welled up immediately and Merlin watched as he swallowed deeply and nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I'll try and remember that." He let go and went to the door. Merlin followed him out as he walked to his horse.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. "For—"

Leon held up his hand. "You shouldn't be apologizing to me," he said. "You did everything you could to help me today, even after hearing that story." He stopped and shook his head. "You know, when I came today, I was convinced that your being a sorcerer changed you somehow. Made you less…relatable, less trustworthy. But now I only see what Arthur saw all those years: just how loyal and selfless you really are."

Merlin felt his face burn at the compliment. "It's what friends do," he said."How could I say no to reuniting you with your sister?"

Leon smiled sadly. "And what thanks do you get in return? I've damaged whatever relationship was developing between you two and that's another regret I'll have to live with."

Merlin shook his head. "It had to come out someday," he said. "And anyway, don't worry about it. It'll resolve itself."

Leon put on his riding gloves and came over and gave Merlin one last firm embrace. He'd been hugged more by him today than in the past five years. "I'm glad she has you in her life," Leon said. "You'll watch over her?"

Merlin pulled out of the hug and nodded. "If she'll let me. She's so fiercely independent."

Leon nodded and chuckled. "Yes, that's one thing that hasn't changed over the years." He untied the mare from the hitching post and led her into the street. Merlin stood back as Leon put his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the horse's back. "So, this is finally goodbye, my friend. I'll still hold out hope to see you back in Camelot someday."

Merlin shifted his stance and nodded once, though he wasn't entirely certain that would come to pass. "Goodbye, Leon. Have a safe journey back."

Leon nodded and saluted a goodbye as he edged his horse into a canter towards the woods. Merlin waited until he fully faded from view before heading back into the cottage.

The smell of the stew hung in the air as Hunith stirred the contents of the pot over the hearth. She glanced up once at Merlin but said nothing. He came over and put his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for being irritable earlier," he said. "I didn't mean it." He took a breath. "I've made a mess of things today."

Hunith reached over and squeezed his hand. "You did what you thought was best. This rift between you two will heal. For now, try and take your mind off it."

"I don't know how," he said. Being in a relationship like this was more complicated than he anticipated.

"Well, you could read that letter Leon brought from Guinevere."

 _From one broken relationship to another,_ he stomach clenched thinking about what would be written inside. Did he want to confront all that pain now? He thought about everything he'd been telling Della earlier, about putting the past behind her—yet here he sat, dreading reading a letter from one of his closest friends because of his own past he couldn't reconcile yet.

 _One step at a time._ It couldn't stay unopened forever. He walked over to the table where he'd placed the letter and brought it back to the bench. His hands shook as he broke the royal seal and opened it, his eyes taking in the patient and elegant hand of Guinevere's.

 _Dear Merlin,_

 _Words cannot express the level of sorrow I felt upon reading your decision to never return to Camelot. I know I cannot change your mind, but I want you to understand just how much you are missed. You will always be my dearest friend despite whatever misplaced blame you place upon yourself._

 _From the moment I first saw you stand up to Arthur when he was no more than an arrogant bully, I knew there was something remarkable about you. You were always the first one to help when trouble arose, always a pillar of strength to rely on, always there for everyone, except yourself._

 _Our friendship is not what it once was, but that blame rests on me. I have taken you for granted over these last few years, forgetting who I really was as I became queen. I've never let you know just how greatly I appreciated everything you did for Arthur, for myself, and for Camelot. Now, my eyes have been opened to just how much you've sacrificed all this time for us all._

 _You said Camelot holds too many painful memories of the past and reminders of a future that will never come to pass, that your presence would be a burden and a constant reminder of Arthur's loss for me. I would argue against that. Arthur is gone, but his Camelot—the Camelot you helped him build—is still here, still full of promise and hope to come. I do not believe your time in Camelot is over; if anything, I believe the hardest work has yet to be undertaken._

 _You were always more than just a manservant, even back to the days of Uther's reign. Your wisdom helped guide Arthur—and myself—through many a trial. Arthur thought of you as a brother, and mentioned such to me on a number of occasions. His pride would never let him tell you that but you held a special place in his heart. And you will always hold a special place in mine._

 _Never forget how much you are loved here, Merlin._

 _Your friend always,_

 _Gwen_

Merlin could barely read the final few sentences through the constant stream of tears. He wiped the tears with his palm and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand as he placed Gwen's letter on the table.

He was running away, turning his back on those who loved and cared for him—and still needed him.

Hunith noticed his distress. She removed the pot from the hearth and placed it on the ground as she walked over and put an arm around his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head in her neck, feeling as vulnerable as a child again.

"May I read the letter?" Hunith asked. Merlin nodded, still numb from all that occurred. He was hollow and emotionally drained.

She read the letter and he watched as she too quickly brushed a tear away. "She misses you greatly," she said finally. "They all do. I saw in Leon's demeanor too. They want you back."

"It's not that I don't want to go back. But I don't have the strength for it anymore. Can I make myself walk those halls again, now empty of his voice? Can I face the silence and the constant reminder of my regret?" He shook his head. "I'm just so tired."

Hunith nodded. "I know, dear one. I know. I wish I had advice to give you. Just know that whatever you decide—today, tomorrow, ten years from now—I will support you. And always remember what Gwen says here." She pointed to the last sentence. _Never forget how much you are loved, Merlin._

Yet remembering that was like a knife to the gut. Why did everything always have to be so bloody complicated?

The emotional whiplash of the day was catching up to him. "I'm going to lie down for a while," he said. The smell of the finished supper filled the cottage but Merlin felt too depressed to force anything down.

Hunith nodded in understanding as he made his way over to his cot. He tried his best not to look over at Della's empty one, the anger and hurt at her sudden departure and her last words to him radiating deep within his chest.

He laid down and shut his eyes trying to put the hell of the day behind him.

* * *

Only mid-morning and Merlin felt as if an eternity had passed as he cut the moss and lichen-covered straw from Master Howell's roof. Two days since Della left to stay with Ceridwen and not a word from her since. Was she that angry with him? The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he grew. She wasn't entirely innocent in the whole situation either. He cut another section of thatch out, pulling the straw with more force than was warranted.

"Careful there," Geralt said from a few feet away as he worked on his own equally filthy section. "You'll lose your footing."

"I'm fine," Merlin said through gritted teeth. "Just want to get this disgusting job done."

"Sure, that's what it is," Geralt said under his breath. "Nothing at all due to your spat with Della."

Merlin rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated groan. "Even if it were, it's none of your concern."

Geralt laughed at Merlin's surliness. "You do remember how big this town is, right? Everyone's been watchin' you and her since you came back. Gotta find something entertaining to break up the boredom."

"Glad my life is a source of entertainment for everyone here." Merlin wasn't entirely surprised by it. He'd long been the center of attention in the village, first from his illegitimate birth, then by becoming servant to royalty. He'd hoped those days were past but by the looks of it, it would never be the case.

Geralt said nothing more and for a few moments, only the sounds of cutting straw filled Merlin's ears."You know, despite what you may think, the townsfolk here really respect you," Geralt said. "How many here can say they were servant to the king of Camelot?"

"Yes, and now I'm back here, aren't I?" Merlin said. Geralt thought he was helping, but if anything, it was further driving that stake through his heart.

Geralt sighed. "I'd be willin' to bet that you weren't forced to come back here." He sliced through a section of straw in one quick cut of his knife. "Don't know why you'd turn your back on all that for this again. But," he said, tossing the straw to the ground below, "that's none of my concern, is it?"

Merlin shut his eyes at the slight, but he knew it was deserved. "Look, I'm sorry for being such an ass," he said. "I'm just…confused. And about a hundred other things at the moment."

Geralt seemed to take the apology in stride. "Yeah, women'll do that to you. Wait until you're married and have kids on top of it."

Marriage. Children. That wasn't a future Merlin pictured himself having—except briefly when he nearly abandoned everything to run away with Freya. Part of him still longed for that simplicity. But was that the kind of life someone like him was meant to have?

"I've been fooling myself," Merlin mumbled, not entirely realizing he'd said it aloud until he was greeted by the lack of chopping and silence.

"How so?" Geralt asked. "Until a few days ago, you and her were both as happy as any pair I've seen."

Merlin brushed off the dirt that caked up on his blade. "It's complicated."

Geralt stayed silent before continuing. "Can I give you a bit of advice?"

"Can't hurt, I guess." Truthfully, Merlin wanted to say no, what with all the "advice" mother had given him the past few days. But he'd already been unfriendly enough to Geralt today, when he was truly just trying to be a friend to him.

"Relationships are hard work. Harder than any manual labor you'll ever do. But it makes this otherwise bleak existence of ours worth it, for however long we're destined to walk this earth." He pulled out a rag from his trouser pocket and wiped his brow. "I'd hate to see you turn into a bitter and lonely person like Nerys."

Geralt's words struck him as plain if he'd been hit between the eyes. It was remarkably similar to what he'd said to Della. _Only you inadvertently compared her to Morgana._ He cringed remembering his less than sensible allusion.

Merlin stayed silent, contemplating this latest obvious—and entirely simple—revelation. He'd been overcomplicating things as always.

"I'm sure she's feeling just as unsure as you are, friend," Geralt continued. "If you make the first move towards fixing whatever misunderstanding passed between you, I promise she'll appreciate it." Geralt chuckled. "Trust me, makin' up after a fight is always nice. Aye?" He made a lewd hand gesture and winked.

Merlin snorted back a laugh and shook his head. "I'm sure it is, but we aren't exactly at that point yet."

Geralt shrugged. "Don't underestimate the power of a good apology."

"I'll remember that." His former darker frame of mind dissipated and Geralt put him in a better mood than he had been in days. "Thank you, by the way. For, you know…the advice. And the laugh. I needed it."

"Glad I could be of help," Geralt replied. "Now follow it and everything'll be back to normal. At least until the next fight." He went back to working on the roof, sawing away with his knife at another patch of thatch.

Merlin tried to focus back on the task at hand, but now he was preoccupied with how exactly to make up with Della. Perhaps he could start by bringing her some wildflowers. Bluebell were in season, as were daisies and he knew how much she liked both, especially after their numerous walks along the edge of the village.

Okay, wildflowers…and maybe use that to ask her to come by for dinner. She loved the elderflower chicken he made the week prior. There was just enough leftover elderflower, though he'd have to see if someone had a chicken he could barter for. He was certain he could easily convince Mother to visit one of her friends that evening so he and Della could clear the air between them privately and get things back to "normal", as Geralt put it.

His thoughts then inadvertently went further, thinking about what Geralt said about the _making up_ part.

He let his mind wander, not realizing the next patch of thatch was already rotted through. He pulled the loose bundle of straw as hard as he had before. It came out with less resistance than he anticipated. He stumbled back off his knees and tried to catch himself with his right arm, but the pitch of the roof was too steep and the momentum too great.

He headed face first off the side. Instinctual magic bubbled forth as he slowed time's passage. It was an invisible river flowing around him and he pushed against it as if swimming upstream, forcing himself to turn just enough so the impact would be on his arm instead of his head.

As usual, time caught up with itself, bursting past the temporary dam of his magic. He braced himself for the inevitable pain to come, silently cursing himself for his clumsiness.

* * *

"Della?" Ceridwen's fingers snapped in front of her face, breaking her out of her daze. "Where have you been the past few moments? You've crushed that poor flower to dust." She gestured to the mortar and pestal in Della's hand. The chamomile had been ground to ruin.

She bit back a curse at her inattention. "I'm sorry," she said, taking the contents and dumping them out the window. "I don't know where my mind is today."

"I do. You're thinking about Merlin again."

Della's face warmed. "Yes, I guess I am."

"Why don't you just go over there to Master Howell's and fix this rift already?" Ceridwen said. "I know you want to, even if you won't admit it."

Della shook her head as she reached for her basket of chamomile. "He wants nothing to do with me." She'd seen him in the fields the past few days keeping his distance from her. After her heartless comment about his refusal to return to Camelot, among other hurtful words she'd thrown at him, it was no wonder he wanted to maintain their space. _He's been hurt so much recently and I just drove another knife into his heart._

Ceridwen sighed. "Likely he's just giving you time to sort out your feelings. And anyway, Hunith's told me he tosses and turns all night, been distracted throughout the day...doesn't sound like someone who wants nothing to do with you."

"Maybe," Della said as she picked a few more chamomile blossoms from her basket. Pride was keeping her from going over and fixing this, and if she were honest with herself, the fear of confronting all those unwanted emotions and memories kept her away. It was easier to keep everything locked up inside, to avoid it, to hide behind that wall. She'd let herself be consumed by the darkness and despair once before—never again.

"Just remember: the longer you wait, the harder it'll be to fix." Ceridwen said.

"I know." Della said. She started grinding the new chamomile blossom, this time focused on making sure she didn't smash it into oblivion.

She knew her friend was right: she couldn't avoid it forever, as much as she wished she could. This town was much too small for that anyway.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Owen calling her name frantically from outside. "Della! Della, come quick!"

She and Ceridwen exchanged worried glances as they rushed to the door. Owen was breathing heavy as if he'd come running and Ceridwen bent down to his level, quickly assessing him as any mother would. "Owen, what's wrong? Why aren't you playing with David?"

"Me and David were playing near Master Howell's when we saw Merlin fall off the roof! Elder John sent me to get Della." He looked over Ceridwen's shoulder at Della. "It was a bad fall. I heard him yell as he hit the ground."

Della's heart stopped. "Where is he now, Owen?"

"They took him inside Master Howell's and told me to run fast for you."

She bent down and kissed the sweet boy on his head and without another thought, she took off running for the cottage. By the gods, how could he be so clumsy? How serious? She knew he could've stopped himself mid-fall if not for these damn anti-magic laws. From Owen's description it sounded bad, but Owen was also five and didn't know the full extent of who Merlin was.

She pushed back the worry from overtaking her as she ran. This wasn't just Merlin after all; he was Emrys, a powerful sorcerer who took down _armies._ Surely it couldn't be that bad…could it?

Whatever hesitation she had about seeing him again left as she made her way across the village. Though it wasn't far, it felt as if her legs couldn't go fast enough to get there. She encountered a few questioning looks as she ran. Certainly word was already circulating about the accident and everyone would know within minutes. She ignored the glances as she turned the corner to Master Howell's.

The door to the cottage was already open and she heard voices inside.

"How can you insist you're not that hurt?" came Geralt's voice.

She let out a sigh of relief as she realized he was addressing Merlin. At least he wasn't unconscious.

She went in without hesitation and the conversation stilted. Old Master Howell stood near the cot, leaning on his weathered cane and Hunith sat on the end of the bed. She'd brought Della's medicine basket, which sat on the ground near her feet.

"Della, thank goodness you're here," Hunith said once she saw her. Merlin turned towards her but the effort made him hiss in pain. He clutched his right arm, which he had folded against him. Della immediately surmised he'd broken it—and who knew what else.

Hunith stood up. "He says he's not hurt badly." She gave Merlin a look mixed with annoyance and worry.

Geralt stepped over from his place near the cottage hearth. "I heard a very clear sound of something cracking when he fell."

"Stop…worrying. I'll be…OK," Merlin said hrough obvious strained breath. "Been hurt…much worse." His struggle to talk told her he may have an injured rib or two as well.

"What the hell did that king of yours have you doing that's worse than falling from a roof?!" Geralt said.

"Plenty," Merlin half chuckled—it was short lived as he grimaced again. How he was managing to be all light hearted was beyond her.

Della sat next to him on the cot. "Alright, enough talk from you," she said. "You'll make your injuries worse."

Merlin nodded once. _Yes, ma'am._ There was a hint of his mischief in his unspoken reply as his eyes locked with hers. She pursed her lips, fighting back a sigh. Fallen from a roof and he still had that humor of his. His smile faded. _I'm glad you're here. I wasn't sure if—_

 _None of that now. Let me heal you first._ They could discuss other issues later. "I'm going to check your ribs first." She said, going straight into healer frame of mind. "Keep your arm still, if you can."

He nodded and kept his promise to stay silent. However, he continued to speak to her through their secret connection. _I'm sure my arm is broken. That was the crack they heard._ He pointed to his right forearm with gritted teeth. _And possibly a rib._

Merlin took a breath as she carefully placed her hands on his right ribcage. He jolted slightly under her touch—whether from sensitivity to the area or otherwise. Her own heart increased its pace as she placed her hand along his side. She tried to imagine him as just another villager and not the man she was courting—this was what she had spent years training for, wasn't it?

She gently felt along his ribs through his shirt. The swelling was obvious underneath her palm. A phantom ache in her own side emerged as she remembered the pain of her own fractured ribs a month prior. Thankfully, this injury was not life threatening as hers had been.

Della removed her hand and fought back the urge to rub her old injury. "All right. I'll have to check your arm next. It'll be painful, so be ready, but I'll be as gentle as I can. Let me know where it hurts the most." Gently, she lifted the sleeve of his blue tunic. His lower arm was already swelling and a developing bruise was visible three fingers' length from his wrist. She applied slight pressure and felt the yielding of bone beneath her fingertips. Merlin groaned in pain. "I think…you found it," he said, his words still strained.

She gave him a look that silenced him. _Right. Don't talk. I'll shut up now._

She didn't respond as she continued to examine his arm to determine how serious the break was. She placed her other hand a few inches higher, feeling a faint grating sensation. The break was moderate, but like his rib, it could've been much worse.

"From what I can tell, both bones in your arm are broken as well as one rib. The latter injury won't be too painful to heal but I'll have to set the bones in your arm."

Worry crossed Merlin's face when she mentioned bone setting—which, to be honest, she only ever helped her aunt with and had never done on her own—but she reassured him quickly. _I have to say that here. I can't tell them I'm going to magically heal you._

Merlin shut his eyes. _Of course. Sorry, I must've knocked what little sense I had out with that fall._ He opened his eyes and gave her a small smile. "I trust you."

She returned the smile, hoping to gather more confidence in her abilities. Yes, she'd healed Owen, but bone breaks were different and required another level of concentration.

But first, she needed to get him back to their cottage—on the other side of the village.

She appealed to Hunith first, who, she hoped, would sense her reasoning. "I think it would be best if we could get Merlin home," she said. "He'll be more comfortable there."

Geralt jumped in before Hunith could speak up. "Beg pardon," he said, hesitantly. "Not that I'm a healer by any means but won't that make his injuries worse?"

"He's more than welcome to stay if needed," Master Howell said. "Don't want the lad to suffer more than he already is."

"If we take it slow," Della said, "his injuries will be no worse than they are now." Please, let that reassure them.

"I'd like him under our roof. It would put my heart more at ease being close by, " Hunith jumped in. Once again, she was thankful for Hunith's ability to sense what was needed without words.

Hunith's statement was enough to settle the issue for both Geralt and Master Howell. Geralt nodded once. "Alright. Can't argue with a mother about her son. "

"Home…would be nice," Merlin said. He edged up to a sitting position a little too quickly before Della could stop him. He held his side with his uninjured hand and groaned.

She refrained from scolding him again as she supported his broken arm. If they were going to walk across the village, she needed to construct a temporary sling. "Master Howell, do you have any extra sheets or large scrap of cloth by chance?"

"Sure do." He walked over to a small trunk at the end of the bed. "Should be somethin' in here," he muttered as he rifled through the contents. "Ah. Here." He pulled out a very worn and tattered bit of linen.

Della stood and took the cloth from Master Howell, folded it diagonally and fashioned a quick sling. "This should help keep it still until I can set the break." She bent over and gently slipped one corner of the cloth underneath Merlin's injured arm and the other corner over his shoulder, tying the two ends securely behind his neck.

Merlin cleared his throat and a muffled chuckle from Geralt suddenly made her realize how close her chest was to Merlin's face. He met her eyes briefly with a hint of a cheeky grin.

She pulled away quickly, her face suddenly hot with embarrassment. No need to draw more attention to the awkward moment. Surely the shade of red that colored her face was more than enough. "Um, Hunith…could you take my basket back? I'll help Merlin here."

"Of course." She didn't miss Hunith's own smile as she picked up the basket and made her way to the door.

She hid her rising mortification by turning back to the matter at hand. "Let me help you up," she said to Merlin. This time, she stood to the side as she bent down, making sure that part of her was nowhere near his eye level again.

He looped his left arm around her shoulders. She eased him slowly to a standing position and wrapped her arm around his mid back to steady him. He cringed at the movement but managed to stay standing as he leaned on her.

"Are you ready?" She asked. He stood partially hunched due to their height difference and his rib injury. She hoped this walk back to the cottage wouldn't be a mistake…

He nodded. _As ready as ever._ She didn't miss the double meaning and the determination in his statement. This accident of his brought them back together and would force them to resolve their quarrel, whether she was ready for it or not.

Leave it to Merlin to resolve a conflict with a tumble off a roof.

* * *

 **A/N:** I committed one of the cardinal sins of fan fiction writing by making this update take nearly three months ::hides in corner:: Life got in the way with a move and some illnesses, then a period of massive self-doubt... Anyway, it's finally here and the next chapter I've already started so, barring any unexpected life changes, should be up within another week.

Massive thanks to my absolutely wonderful beta Requiem17. She helped me push through many moments of doubt and kept me accountable in writing as often as possible to get this done. Another thanks to my other beta Jewelsmg who read through this and helped clean it up :)

And thanks of course to you, my faithful readers! :)


	16. The Best Medicine

_**Chapter songs:**_

 _Merlin S2 Soundtrack: Gwen and Arthur Romance Suite_

 _May I by Trading Yesterday_

* * *

The alternating pain in Merlin's side and arm made the walk back to the cottage slow and difficult. Each step in the uneven dirt road made him cringe. He held onto Della's shoulder for support and she took on a great deal of his weight, helping him without a single complaint. Only the sound of her strained breathing and the beads of perspiration along her hairline told him how much physical effort she was using.

She kept her gaze forward and her grip around his back firm. The warmth and gentle strength of her hand on him made his heart race. He'd missed her more than he realized. He couldn't help but secretly delight in being close to her again, even if it took his idiocy to bring them back together. At least for the moment.

They finally arrived home and Hunith opened the door ahead of them. "We'll have to shuffle in sideways," Della said. "Watch your step. I don't need you making your injuries worse after we made it this far."

 _Yes, mother,_ he teased.

She squinted at him and pursed her lips in what initially looked like irritation, but the corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back a smile.

They entered the cottage and Della helped Merlin onto his cot. Bending down again aggravated his broken rib and he winced as the pain coursed through his side.

"Thank…you." He received stern looks from both his mother and Della for talking. Again.

Hunith leaned down and pressed a light kiss on his forehead. "Just a little longer, then you can talk."

He gave her a strained smile through his gasps for breath. She knew how hard it was for him to keep quiet for long.

Hunith turned her attention over to Della, who had walked over to ladle two cups of water. "Is there any way I can help you?" she asked.

Damp strands of hair stuck to Della's forehead and along the outline of her face. She took a sip of water before she answered. "We'll need to make a comfrey poultice for Merlin's side. It'll help ease the soreness that'll linger."

She put her cup down and walked over to the table where Hunith placed her medicine bag. "I have leftover cloth strips. Not much comfrey left." Her voice turned quiet at that last part as she absentmindedly rubbed the side where she'd been injured just a month prior.

"I believe I have some here," Hunith replied as she walked over to her small shelf of herbal remedies. She looked amongst the few jars. "Rosemary, rue...Ah! Here we go. I'll have this made up in no time." She went over to the table and started preparing the poultice.

Della came over to Merlin and handed him a cup of water. "I'm sure you're thirsty." His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup with his uninjured hand and their eyes locked briefly.

The moment was broken as she let go. He almost spoke out loud again but caught himself as another twinge of pain shot through his side. _Thank you._ He took a long drink of water, draining the contents in only a few sips. He hadn't realized just how parched his throat was.

She sat on the cot next to him, close enough that her leg brushed against his. She took his empty cup and placed it on the floor. "I'm going to heal your rib 'll make it easier to breathe again _._ " She gave him a half smile. "And talk."

Merlin returned the smile as she placed her palms on his rib cage. Even though he still had his shirt on, he found himself struggling to suppress a shudder of pleasure at her touch. He inhaled deeply then instantly regretted it as he winced with the sharp protest his rib gave him.

She heard his discomfort. _Am I hurting you?_ She asked through their mental connection.

 _No. Quite the opposite._

Her cheeks turned pink and she nervously brushed one of her loose strands of hair behind her ear. _No more cheeky comments from you until this is done._ Another well-deserved scolding.

He should've refrained, but he couldn't help it. Being this close to her made him lose all common sense—or what little of it he had.

Another moment longer and the ever recognizable but gentle forces of magic gathered around them as Della's fingers spread over the injured rib. " _Ahlúttre séocnes."_

A soothing warmth spread through his side as the magic infused itself into his bone. Breathing became easier as the pain eased into little more than a lingering ache. He knew it would take a day or two for that to subside—much like it had been with Della—but at least now he could breathe without gasping.

Merlin exhaled deeply, feeling rejuvenated from that simple spell. The throbbing in his arm was still apparent, but without the combined pain of his rib, easier to tolerate.

Della moved her palms from his ribs. "I take it by that nice intake of air that it worked."

"Almost as if I hadn't broken it at all."

"Good." She shifted in her spot next to him and clasped her hands together in her lap. "I'm not sure the next spell will be as easy. I'll be honest, I haven't done a magical bone setting before. Ealhwyn only ever mentioned the theory behind it once or twice. But, there might be a spell for it in the book you gave me."

"I'm glad that book is proving useful."

She gave him the smallest of smiles. "I need to check and see if it's in there first."

Della stood and walked over to her medicine bag and pulled out the Gwillem of Cambria book. He watched as she leafed through the pages for awhile before she stopped. "Here it is." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she silently mouthed the words.

"The spell is complex," she said as she closed the book, marking the page with her finger. "It'll likely be uncomfortable, but much less than if I had to set it normally." She took a breath. "There's a second part, too. After I magically weave the bone back together, I'll need to make a tonic to help permanently bind it back in place. Only I don't have all the ingredients and I'm not sure where to find them—"

"What do you need?" Hunith spoke up.

Merlin smiled. If anyone knew where to find herbs around Ealdor, it was definitely his mother.

"Willow bark, yarrow and coltsfoot," Della said. "The coltsfoot may be difficult to find this time of year."

"Oh, I know of a few places to look," Hunith said, rolling down her sleeves. "I've finished grinding up with the poultice so it's ready when you need it." She walked over to Merlin, bent over and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Della will take good care of you, I'm sure." She smiled and looked back to Della, who immediately blushed and turned her attention back to her book. Hunith picked up a basket next to the door and headed out without another word.

"What was that about?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Della shrugged unconvincingly. She placed the book on the table next to the bandages.

"I think you do," he teased. "Your face doesn't lie."

She pursed her lips. "It's nothing. Just a discussion we had. That's it." Embarrassment was evident in her tone, despite the words.

He nodded, not pushing the matter further. Maybe he didn't want to know.

Della broke the silence. "Anyway, are you ready? For me to heal your arm?"

Merlin nodded, grateful that she'd refocused on the matter at hand.

She came over and sat next to him again, whatever earlier awkwardness having passed. "I'll need you to try and stay quiet as I'm casting the spell. I don't want to inadvertently make your arm fall off instead."

"Wait—it can rebound like that?"

"I'm teasing you." A playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Your joking nature must be rubbing off on me."

He let out an uneasy laugh. "You had me worried there for a moment."

She reached behind his neck and untied the sling. He cringed as the movement sent a shot of pain up into his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'll have to hold your arm at a better angle in order for the spell to work."

He nodded as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to think about the stabbing pain.

"Rest your arm in my hand," she said. He did as she instructed, his arm tense with discomfort.

"Try and relax the muscles as much as possible. I know it's difficult."

"That's an understatement," he said through gritted teeth. The bone in his forearm grated together and his eyes watered at the feeling.

Della placed her right hand over the injury while she supported the weight with her left. "This will be unpleasant."

He was just grateful she was willing to try this instead of the traditional method. He'd been present at enough bone settings over the years with Gaius to know the level of pain that brought. Merlin took hold of the edge of the cot with his other hand in preparation for whatever came next.

Della let out a quiet breath. The air stilled and Merlin felt the magic settling around them as finely as the dust motes in the sun.

" _Hefeldian wundorhælu, ácennan hrúse_." Her eyes glowed as she uttered the words without hesitation, her voice calm and ethereal as the magic coalesced around his arm. Merlin sensed its intricacy; it was harder to grasp, to focus on, easily tangled among the stronger elemental magic that came so naturally for him. The magical strands permeated his fragmented bones.

" _Batian bánbryce. Áwefan fullgearwian_."

The discomfort in his arm grew as the strands wove tighter, realigning and resetting his bones. The tightness increased and he cringed, gripping the edge of the cot and trying his best to hold as still as possible.

Della held his arm still, unwavering in strength. She hadn't moved at all as her eyes focused on his arm. The pulling and twisting eased as the sharp pain ebbed away, becoming only a mild ache, much like that in his rib. He relaxed his grip as Della's eyes returned to their normal brown.

She let out a long sigh as she removed her hands from his arm. He felt her trembling beside him and he realized just how much it had taken from her to cast the spell. She blinked rapidly, almost as if she were trying to keep awake.

"I think…it worked," she said. Her breathing was still shaky from the after effects of the magic. "For a moment there, I thought I'd forget some of the wording."

"I never noticed." He sat up and moved his arm carefully, relieved he could physically bend it now. "How you were able to keep your concentration?" He was still amazed. The amount of focus she had was astounding.

"Years of practice. You'd have felt the magic fading if my attention drifted even briefly," she said. "I'm surprised I was able to do it successfully the first time."

"I'm not."

She gave him an uneasy smile. "You're not fully healed yet, remember? I still need to make the potion for the second part. Or else we'll be doing this again tomorrow. So," she said, easing his arm down from him moving it around, "you need to keep it as still as possible or all my efforts will be for naught. And remember, you're going to have to pretend it's broken for a few weeks yet or else Nerys will rally the town again and chase me out before the sun sets."

"I know." Truthfully, he'd almost forgotten, the dolt that he was. "I can keep it sling-free here at home, right?"

Della picked up the cloth and wrapped his arm. "Maybe. If you'll be able to put it back into a sling when someone knocks at the door." She took the two ends and tied it behind his neck again. "For today, I'd like you to keep it wrapped up. You're lucky this wasn't worse." She removed her hands from around his neck—much to his dismay—and lowered them to her lap. "I was…really worried about you when Owen came and told me." She swallowed and he could tell she was fighting back tears.

He hadn't known she was so upset, but he cursed himself for making her feel that way. Merlin reached over with his uninjured hand and tucked one of the many loosened locks of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I worried you," he said. She was so close he could almost count the freckles on her cheeks. The urge to kiss her was strong and he leaned in closer, focusing on her lips, hoping, praying she'd lean in too, to make things right between them again—

"I should get that poultice for your side," she said, pulling back and breaking the moment. "I'm sure you're still pretty sore." She got up and walked across the room and retreated back behind that wall of hers.

Merlin sighed in disappointment. Returning things to normal between them was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

 _What's wrong with me?_ Della thought. Merlin was trying to reach out, trying to initiate a reconciliation, and she turned her back. What irritation she had at their conflict was fleeting, but she still clung to it. It was far easier than facing the truth and pain of the past. Yet something had to give-she couldn't keep delaying a resolution unless she wanted to drive a permanent wedge between herself and Merlin.

Gods, how she wished things could just be simple for once.

Merlin stayed silent from his place on his cot and she wondered what he was thinking. Likely hurt and confused again from her pulling away from him.

Della picked up the mortar with the comfrey paste and gathered the bandages Hunith left on the table. She paused as she realized she would have to be the one to wrap these around Merlin's ribs too. Her throat went dry and her heart beat faster at the thought of him shirtless.

She shook her head, chiding herself for having such adolescent thoughts. Hadn't she done this countless times before as a healer in training back in Havenswood? It wasn't as if she'd never seen a man without a shirt.

"Della, are you OK?" Merlin's voice broke through her runaway thoughts. Concern laced his words. "Is another vision coming on?" He made a move to stand before she stopped him.

"No, don't you move!" She chided. "I'm fine. No visions. Just...tired." She walked across the room as he settled back on his cot. "Healing spells just take a lot out of me."

"You look as if you're on the far side of the Five Kingdoms. Something's troubling you."

"I promise, everything is fine." She didn't have time to dwell on her silly anxiety now.

He didn't look convinced but to her surprise—and relief—he didn't push the matter further. Perhaps he sensed her nerves at what was coming.

Della placed the bandages on the end of the cot. She struggled to keep her hands steady—she was worn out from both spells, and she still needed to make the potion. This situation only added to her unsteadiness. Prolonging it was only going to make this more awkward. Where had all her earlier confidence gone?

She placed the mortar on the floor and stood in front of him, drawing up the courage. "I…um…need you to take off your shirt." It _still_ sounded more suggestive than she wanted.

"I'd have had it off already," Merlin said, an edge of teasing in his voice, "only…I think I'm going to need a little help." He lifted his arm stiffly, trying not to bend it. "You suggested I don't move it much, remember?"

Della rolled her eyes at his sassy comment. "Yes, of course," she mumbled. "I'm not thinking clearly."

"I understand," he said. "Who would when faced with seeing me shirtless?" He broke into a wide, cheeky grin.

A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. "No, I suppose you're right." Merlin always found a way to try and lighten the mood. She took his arm and helped guide it out of his sleeve. "I'm sure all the ladies swooned when faced with such a sight."

He snorted. "Not when they had any of the knights to fawn over." She pushed the tunic sleeve back, gathering it around his neck, and focused on the strips of bandages on the cot next to him rather than his now half-bare chest.

"Percival and Gwaine always had a large crowd of women watching during summer training." Merlin paused. "I'm sure they miss Gwaine. He loved the attention." The words were strained and he swallowed hard as he absentmindedly raised his other arm while she tugged on that sleeve. "I wish you could've met him. He would've liked you. Probably a bit too much. He had a weakness for exceptionally pretty women."

Della flushed as she finished helping him work his other arm out. "I'm not exceptionally pretty."

"You are to me." She felt him studying her and she met his eyes. The air stilled and the atmosphere in the room changed. She could hear every beat of her racing heart echoing in her ears now as he sat there, shirt hanging loosely around his neck, looking at her with such admiration.

 _Admiration I don't deserve._ She cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "We should get that rib of yours bound up before the poultice dries." She bent down to get the mortar she left on the floor, making an effort to look away while Merlin pulled his tunic off over his head.

Della kept her gaze averted as long as possible as she resumed her place next to Merlin. She took a breath as she dipped two fingers in the green clay substance before she finally turned her attention back to him.

The bruising on his side was still visible, dark and mottled, a sharp contrast to the pale skin around it. However, the edges were already showing the signs of rapid healing, the yellow color of a bruise's last stage already present. That surprised her: with her own injury, that had taken a full week to heal properly. It was just another reminder to her just how special this man in front of her was.

Merlin noticed her pause. "I won't bite," he said. "Promise."

She gave him a half smile. "Well, one can never be too sure."

Della finally gathered enough nerve to rub the poultice on his injury. Merlin took in a sharp breath through his nose and his side tensed as her fingers gently applied the paste. His skin was warm to the touch and she could almost feel his blood pulsing beneath her fingers.

She was single-mindedly focused on the area of his injury, refusing to give into the temptation of looking at the rest of him. Merlin watched her closely, almost _inviting_ her to do so.

They both remained silent, and she was keenly aware of the strained breathing coming from him, certain her own matched its uncertain rhythm.

"That…should be enough for now," she said, her voice barely coming out above a whisper. The back of her neck was damp with nervous sweat and she was grateful she was nearly done. All that remained was to wrap his chest with the bandages. A part more awkward than the first, as it would require her to get _very_ close to him. And she'd not be able to avoid looking this time.

 _Now or never_ , she thought. Best not to prolong the inevitable.

Merlin moved his arm behind her as she positioned the first bandage over the layer of poultice. Her thoughts strayed as she imagined him wrapping that arm around her and drawing her to him. Unrealistic and irresponsible, seeing as that was the arm she just healed. Yet the image lodged firmly in her head, unwilling to disappear.

She kept her eyes lowered as she reached around him. He was so close, she felt his breath warm on the back of her neck. It sent a tremor through her and she fumbled with the strip, nearly dropping it on his lap.

That's when she noticed something odd out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw a faded burn scar right over the center of Merlin's chest.

She pulled back, her mouth open in surprise. It was slightly smaller than her palm. It radiated outward, the skin taut and wrinkled.

Merlin noticed her reaction and glanced down at the scar. "Now you know why I don't take my shirt off in the fields like all the other village men. Don't want to have to try and explain that."

"Was that from your fight with Nimueh?"

His eyebrows rose in momentary surprise. "Yes. You had a vision of it then?"

"Some, yes." It had only been the second vision she had of him and she hadn't seen him struck down in it. "I didn't realize…."

"It's been so long, I hardly think of it," Merlin said. "Well, except when I'm without a shirt." He paused. "You know, I think I might have a few more scars than most of the knights."

"That many?" She was suddenly very aware of just how many times he'd faced death—and just how many times those scrapes had left him with a permanent mark.

"Mmhmm. This one here," he said, pointing to a very light, but stippled scar just below his left collar bone, "Mace wound from one of Morgana's Southron soldiers. She ended up healing it and then using the fomorrah on me. It controlled my mind and made me try to kill Arthur. Let's just say she didn't plan on me being a terrible assassin." He scratched the back of head and chuckled—but Della didn't see any humor in it.

Merlin pointed to another scar on his lower left side. "Serket sting. I thought I was being cautious following Morgana when she met up with Morgause. I was wrong. If not for Kilgharrah, I would've died." Then he pointed to a fourth on his left side, this one looking much more recent. It was a crossbow wound—very similar to the one Della now had on her thigh. "Kilgharrah's healing magic saved me from death here too. Happened only a few months ago. Again, tied to Morgana."

He let out a long, world-weary sigh. "If only I'd been honest with her all those years ago, when she was frightened about her magic awakening, maybe things would've turned out differently." Merlin rubbed the old wound and bit his lip. "Instead, I abandoned her to the likes of her vengeful sister and destiny's whims. Just one of many things I'll always regret."

"All the pain you've borne...all you've gone through…" How many more wounds did he have that were invisible, battering his heart and soul? And how in all that was good and great was he not consumed by it?

If anyone on the face of the earth had any right to be broken by fate, it was Merlin. How he hadn't been twisted and malformed by everything he'd endured, how he hadn't turned into another Morgana….Destiny's path for him had been cruel indeed.

Yet here he was, still as kind, selfless and good-natured as ever. And here she was, still dwelling on her own personal, seemingly insignificant tragedy that paled in comparison to everything he'd gone through.

If she'd gone through half as much as he had, it was painfully clear to her which road she'd follow.

Merlin noticed her distress and squeezed her hand. "Everything I've gone through made me who I am now. Destiny hasn't always been kind to me—until she led me to you."

Della swallowed back the warring feelings in her chest. She wanted to believe it, to hold onto that small fragment of hope, but the encompassing doubt overshadowed it quickly.

"Are you sure about that?" She let go of his hand and resumed wrapping his wound. "You seem to forget the circumstances of our meeting and all the…all the consequences that followed." Her vision blurred with tears as she remembered everything that occurred in Havenswood and the loss of Ealhwyn.

"Della—"

"Merlin, please. I can't." She pinned the end of the bandage strip in place and picked up his shirt. "Here. I'll help you guide your arms through again."

He let out a frustrated sigh as he put his shirt over his head and pulled it with his left hand, tousling his already messy hair. She stood and helped guide his arms through again in strained silence. It continued until after she helped bind his arm in the sling again.

The silence was too much for Merlin to maintain. "You don't always have to be strong, Della," he said as she finished tying the knot at the back of his neck. "It's okay to cry, to grieve—"

"No." She shook her head vehemently as she bent over and picked up the empty mortar. "No, I'm not strong, Merlin. I'm not…" Her wall was crumbling rapidly. "You know what I realized now? After seeing all your scars? That I'm the complete opposite of strong." She looked down at the mortar and focused on the stains left behind from the paste. "You were right in comparing me to Morgana. Because I'm more like her than you realize. Bitter, angry, vengeful."

"Enough." He stood up before she could stop him and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You _are not_ Morgana. You never will be. I was a total ass to ever draw such a stupid comparison. I'm sorry I ever made you doubt how beautiful, compassionate and brave you really are."

"You never made me doubt. You just pointed out the truth." Beautiful? Compassionate? _Brave?_ She was none of those things. "A compassionate person doesn't wish for the death of the man who ordered their mother to be burned at the stake. A brave person doesn't avoid the only family she has left."

She walked to the table and straightened up the discarded bits of comfrey. Her hands trembled as the effort to keep the approaching grief away physically took its toll.

Merlin was close behind her and placed his hand over hers, stopping her from her frantic cleanup. "I wish I knew the right words to say to convince you otherwise," he said. "You don't know how much I'm sorry for reopening this wound for you. To see you hurting like this… I wish I could take the pain away." He rubbed his thumb over the top of her knuckles.

His total selflessness shattered what remained of her crumbling resolve. "Please don't apologize. I was so horrible to you and here you are, trying to take the blame for it, when this whole mess rests on me."

The words came forth like a rush of water pouring from her heart. "Seeing Leon again…it wasn't just remembering my mother dying. He reminded me of Havenswood, and losing Ealhwyn—all the loss I experienced not once, but twice. Seeing him brought back everything I tried so hard to bury and forget."

"Oh, Della, I hadn't realized…."

"How could you?" Della interrupted. "I didn't tell you anything. You were only trying to help. I knew that, deep down, but I held onto the pain instead, afraid it would consume me again like it did back then. I thought it was…easier that way. And you've enough heartache of your own without adding mine. I didn't want to be another burden." She looked down and gripped the edge of the table as hard as she could, focusing on the pain of the wood digging into her palms.

"Look at me." He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "You are _never_ a burden. You don't have to face your grief alone. I'm here for you."

All the anger, all the resentment, the sorrow that she'd locked away came to the surface and rushed forth in a torrent of tears. "I'm so sorry, Merlin. Sorry for pushing you away...and for so much…."

He drew her into an embrace and she tucked herself under his slinged arm, taking shelter against him. She sobbed into his shirt, her shoulders shaking with the release of emotion. Merlin's free arm held her tightly as he rubbed her back with his hand. He stayed silent, kissing the top of her head every few moments in reassurance and support.

After so many years, her heart was finally healing itself from the heavy burden of the tragedies she'd faced.

Della finally stopped crying, thoroughly spent. She took a shaky breath and looked up at Merlin.

"I know how hard it was for you to share that with me." He wiped a stray tear on her cheek away. "See? You _are_ brave. It takes great courage to face the shadows of the past."

"I don't think I could've done so without you." She untucked one of her hands and placed it on the back of his. "I wish I could help you the way you've helped me."

Merlin touched his forehead to hers. "You have," he said. "Do you remember that night, when you told me I was still Albion's greatest hope?"

"Yes. And I still believe you are."

He smiled. "You've no idea how many times those words have echoed in my head. If I hadn't met you that day in the woods, I don't know if I ever would've found reason to hope again." He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I might be Albion's greatest hope, but you're mine."

He leaned down and kissed her. It was a balm to her heart; whatever sorrow she had ebbed away as the peace and healing of his kisses surrounded her.

Della brought her arms up and around his neck and pulled him closer. His hand moved from her cheek at the same time, lightly trailing his fingers down her neck and shoulders to her waist. The feeling sent a shiver down her back and the world faded away as she parted her lips, inviting him to do likewise. Their tongues met, tentative, hesitant, and wonderful.

They continued kissing as she felt him taking a few steps back. Merlin pulled away briefly as he sat down on the edge of her cot, taking her by the waist to gently guide her into his lap. She followed, though she hesitated briefly as she maneuvered between the sling and his upper body.

"Are you sure this is wise?" she asked, gently looping her arms about his shoulders.

"Of course." He smiled that half grin of his. "This is the best medicine either one of us could ask for."

Well, she couldn't argue with that.

Merlin initiated their kissing again with a fervency that sent her heart racing and threw all questions from her mind. She longed for him to wrap his arms around her and she drew closer, still mindful of his injury. He tightened his embrace as best he could, their chests now pressed as close together as physically possible. She melted against him as their kisses deepened.

Della brought her hands up his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, relishing the feeling. She'd imagined doing such on quite a few occasions-but the reality was far better than her daydreams. He shuddered against her as a low moan escaped him. She smiled at his reaction, enjoying that she could elicit such from him.

Merlin moved his lips from hers and peppered her jaw with feather-light kisses, making a trail down to the hollow of her neck. She gasped at the new and pleasant sensation. Each touch of his lips to her skin sent fire through her veins; each brush of his hand as he moved it over the curve of her hip and thigh dwindled what little restraint she fought to maintain.

Rationality struggled to take over as consequences of further progression lodged themselves in her Merlin-addled mind. She wanted him—and she knew he wanted her—Gods, she didn't want him to stop with those kisses—but reason _must_ take over. Head over heart, at least for now.

"Merlin," she struggled to get his name out, to push past the desire to continue. "Merlin…I think…we have to stop."

It took a moment for the words to sink in on his end. "Mmmhmm," he finally mumbled, lightly kissing her now along the top of collarbone. "Just," A kiss, at the base of her neck. "One," Another, planted further up. "More." His final kiss was just below her ear, his quickened breathing matching hers. He nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

Della couldn't resist planting one final kiss of her own where his hairline met his forehead, running one hand through his hair for the last time. Merlin closed his eyes and smiled against her and she was now firmly convinced that was a weakness of his.

"I never want to move," Merlin said. "I could sit here this close to you forever."

"That could make for a very awkward conversation when your mother returns and sees me sitting on your lap."

He sighed, his breath a caress against her neck. "You're right." He lifted his head from her shoulder. "But she is taking a conveniently long time to find that coltsfoot." He focused on her lips. "Maybe we have time for a little more…."

Della laughed as she put a palm on his chest to stop him, still a bit shaky as she tried to regain her own senses after such a passionate kissing session. "Another time, perhaps." Merlin reluctantly moved his arms as she slid her legs off his lap and stood.

He pretended to pout. "That's it? Just perhaps?"

She rolled her eyes, but still riding the edge of joviality, leaned back down and kissed him full and deep, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. She pulled back and grinned. "Perhaps."

Merlin shook his head and chuckled. "The things you do to me…."

"I know," Della said. "I was sitting on your lap, remember?"

He turned scarlet and scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, yeah…I guess you would've…um, noticed."

"It's only natural," she said. "You don't have to hide it." She realized once the words came out of her mouth how blatantly suggestive that sounded and now it was her turn to grow warm. "I mean, not show me actually, but not…oh damn, I don't know what I'm saying." She hid her face in her hands, laughing along with Merlin, who was obviously enjoying her word slip up.

After another moment or two of laughter, Merlin said, "Well, at least something good came of my clumsiness today."

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost suspect you planned it."

"Not the fall exactly," he said, rubbing his arm. "But I was planning on making you dinner." He sighed. "I wanted to bring you your favorite flowers and—" he stopped, his eyes lighting up. "I just remembered something." He started to get up but suddenly looked sheepish. "Actually I still need a few more moments for…um…."

"It's all right," Della said, understanding what he meant. "What do you need me to find?"

"On the other side of my cot are two brown packages."

Curiosity piqued, she went over to his cot and saw them, the smaller one stacked on top of the larger. The one on top had a small, dried sprig of lavender tucked under the twine. She remembered then the day Leon came that Merlin was headed to Engerd on an errand—one that he teased her would remain a surprise.

"Go ahead and open them," Merlin said. "Start with the larger first. Careful though—it's fragile." He had a look of anticipation in his eyes that reminded her of a child waiting for a sweet.

Della moved the smaller package and carefully picked up the other. She was surprised at the weight as she heard faint clinking of glass. Now she suddenly felt like a child again, eager to see what was inside.

She unwrapped the cloth covering, her mouth dropping open in surprise. A dozen or so glass apothecary vials were in a small wooden box along with a small scale and weight set, similar to the one she'd left in Havenswood. "Oh Merlin… you brought me so much." She was overcome with his generous nature once again.

"It doesn't replace everything you and Ealhwyn had, but I wanted to help you start rebuilding your supply again."

"You didn't—"

"I know I didn't _have_ to," he interrupted. "But I wanted to."

"I feel like saying thank you is entirely inadequate."

"Well, you have one more parcel to open first. Then you can thank me however you see fit."

Della bit back her smile and shook her head as she opened the second one. She hadn't any idea what this could be. Her breath caught though when she saw a lovely, rich green bolt of linen fabric inside. It reminded her of the forest at the height of summer.

"It's beautiful!"

Merlin beamed, his smile as wide as ever. "I figured you'd like to make a new dress for the midsummer festival in a few weeks. When I saw that color, I couldn't stop picturing how pretty you'd look." He chuckled. "So…that gift wasn't _entirely_ for you."

She folded the cloth back up again and came back to sit next to him. "I love it," she said. "All of it. Thank you." She kissed him deeply, and despite her better judgment, easily lost herself in him as he wrapped his arm about her waist and drew her close again.

The sound of the cottage door opening barely registered in Della's mind, and when it finally did, she and Merlin were still quite close, lips only an inch apart.

Hunith paused in the doorway, her basket full of the herbs needed for Merlin's tonic. "Seems you two have been quite busy since I've been gone." Della put a more respectable distance between herself and Merlin as Hunith grinned.

"Oh yes, a very productive afternoon," Merlin quipped. "Lots of healing going on." Della hid her face and timid smile, rolling her eyes. He _would_ say something like that.

"Healing indeed." Hunith placed the basket on the table. "Well, whatever happened, I'm glad to see you both happy."

Della met Merlin's smile. Yes, it was good to finally be happy again.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I hope you all liked that little bit of reconciliation between Merlin and Della. It was beyond time to give them a break from all their sorrow. And of course they took comfort in one another. Truly "the best medicine" ;)

I made a lot of references back to the series in this chapter. There was of course, the Gwillem of Cambria book from s3 episode 'The Wicked Day' and which I had Merlin bring back from Camelot back in chapter 11. I totally made up the spell from it though after an hour of researching. The spell essentially is "Begin the web of wondrous healing, Heal the fracture , weave it fully together." Not the most poetic, but I wanted it complex enough for Della to really have to focus on but not lines and lines of Old English words.

Of course, all of Merlin's scars are from throughout the series. I'd been waiting FOREVER to do a scar reveal for him and this was the time. Those four were the only ones I could think of from the show (Chest scar from s1 finale, mace wound from s4 'Servant of Two Masters', serket wound from s2 'Tears of Uther Pendragon', and the most recent one from s5 'The Kindness of Strangers').

Ok, I must give a big thanks to my beta **Requiem17** for all the brainstorming involved with this chapter, all the talks on chat and helping me clean up the mess that was the first version. And I have her to thank for helping me with the chapter title too!

Of course, thanks to **Jewelsmg** for going over it and finding repetitive parts that I totally missed, as well as the encouraging and funny chats we have. :)

And as always, thanks to my readers!

Oh... and one more surprise for you. I commissioned an artist, Grace Fong, to draw a picture of Merlin and Della :) It's currently my temporary profile pic, in case you are interested!


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